A Game of Thrones Chapter Twenty-eight

CatelynMy lady, you ought cover your head, Ser Rodrik told her as their horses pl mirthfuled north. You will take a chill.It is solo water, Ser Rodrik, Catelyn replied. Her copper hung potent and gravid, a loose strand stuck to her forehead, and she could imagine how ragged and wild she must attend, besides for one duration she did non care. The s pophern rain was soft and warm. Catelyn samed the feel of it on her buttock, gentle as a mothers kisses. It took her back to her childhood, to vast grey days at Riverrun. She remembered the godswood, drooping branches heavy with moisture, and the weighty of her brothers laughter as he chased her through piles of damp leaves. She remembered making mud pies with Lysa, the weight of them, the mud glib-tongued and br witness between her fingers. They had served them to Littlefinger, giggling, and hed eaten so more mud he was sick for a week. How young they entirely had been.Catelyn had almost forgotten. In the north, the rain fe ll cold and hard, and some(a) meters at night it turned to ice. It was as likely to kill a crop as nurture it, and it sent gr let men rill for the honestest shelter. That was no rain for little girls to play in.I am soaked through, Ser Rodrik complained. level off my study are wet. The woods pressed close around them, and the steady pattering of rain on leaves was accompanied by the small sucking sounds their horses made as their hooves pulled free of the mud. We will want a fire tonight, my lady, and a hot meal would serve us both.There is an inn at the cross ways up ahead, Catelyn told him. She had slept galore(postnominal) a night on that point in her y poph, traveling with her founder. Lord Hoster Tully had been a rest little earth in his prime, always riding somewhere. She still remembered the innkeep, a fat woman screamd Masha Heddle who chewed sourleaf night and day and seemed to stool an without end supply of smiles and sweet cakes for the children. The sweet cake s had been soaked with honey, rich and heavy on the tongue, except how Catelyn had dreaded those smiles. The sourleaf had varnished Mashas teeth a dark red, and made her smile a bloody horror.An inn, Ser Rodrik repeated wist affluenty. If merely . . . but we dare not risk it. If we wish to remain un cutn, I think it trump out we seek out some small holdfast . . . He broke off as they heard sounds up the avenue splashing water, the clink of mail, a horses whinny. Riders, he warned, his turn dropping to the hilt of his sword. Even on the kingsroad, it never abide to be wary.They followed the sounds around a lazy bend of the road and saw them a column of build up men noisily fording a swollen stream. Catelyn reined up to let them pass. The banner in the hand of the foremost rider hung sodden and limp, but the guardsmen wore indigo cloaks and on their shoulder joints flew the silver eagle of Seagard. Mallisters, Ser Rodrik whispered to her, as if she had not known. My lady, bes t pull up your hood.Catelyn made no move. Lord Jason Mallister himself rode with them, surrounded by his knights, his son Patrek by his side and their squires close behind. They were riding for Kings Landing and the Hands tourney, she knew. For the past week, the travelers had been thick as flies upon the kingsroad knights and freeriders, singers with their harps and drums, heavy wagons laden with hops or corn or casks of honey, traders and craftsmen and whores, and all of them moving south.She studied Lord Jason boldly. The furthermost time she had seen him he had been jesting with her uncle at her wedding feast the Mallisters stood bannermen to the Tullys, and his gifts had been lavish. His brown hair was salted with lily- sportsmanlike now, his face chiseled gaunt by time, yet the years had not touched his pride. He rode like a man who feared nothing. Catelyn envied him that she had get it on to fear so much. As the riders passed, Lord Jason nodded a curt greeting, but it was only a high lords courtesy to strangers chance met on the road. There was no recognition in those fierce eyes, and his son did not even waste a look.He did not know you, Ser Rodrik utter after, wondering.He saw a pair of mud-spattered travelers by the side of the road, wet and tired. It would never occur to him to louche that one of them was the daughter of his liege lord. I think we shall be safe enough at the inn, Ser Rodrik.It was near dark when they reached it, at the cross roads north of the great confluence of the Trident. Masha Heddle was fatter and greyer than Catelyn remembered, still che seduceg her sourleaf, but she gave them only the most cursory of looks, with nary a hint of her ghastly red smile. Two rooms at the top of the stair, thats all thither is, she state, chewing all the while. Theyre under the bell tower, you wont be missing meals, though theres some thinks it too noisy. Cant be helped. Were full up, or near as makes no matter. Its those rooms or the road.It was those rooms, low, dusty garrets at the top of a cramped narrow staircase. Leave your boots down here, Masha told them after shed taken their coin. The boy will clean them. I wont form you tracking mud up my stairs. Mind the bell. Those who come late to meals dont eat. There were no smiles, and no mention of sweet cakes.When the supper bell rang, the sound was deafening. Catelyn had changed into dry clothes. She sit by the window, watching rain run down the pane. The glass was milky and full of bubbles, and a wet dusk was falling outside. Catelyn could just make out the muddy crossing where the two great roads met.The crossroads gave her pause. If they turned west from here, it was an easy ride down to Riverrun. Her father had always given her sagacious counsel when she subscribeed it most, and she yearned to talk to him, to warn him of the gathering storm. If Winterfell needed to brace for war, how much much so Riverrun, so much closer to Kings Landing, with the power of C asterly Rock looming to the west like a shadow. If only her father had been stronger, she might have chanced it, but Hoster Tully had been bedridden these past two years, and Catelyn was loath to tax him now.The eastern road was wilder and more dangerous, climbing through rocky foothills and thick forests into the Mountains of the Moon, past high passes and deeply chasms to the vale of Arryn and the stony Fingers beyond. Above the Vale, the Eyrie stood high and impregnable, its towers reaching for the sky. There she would find her sister . . . and, perhaps, some of the answers Ned sought. certainly Lysa knew more than she had dared to put in her letter. She might have the very proof that Ned needed to bring the Lannisters to ruin, and if it came to war, they would need the Arryns and the eastern lords who owed them service.Yet the mountain road was perilous. Shadowcats prowled those passes, rock slides were universal, and the mountain clans were lawless brigands, descending from t he heights to abstract and kill and melting away like snow whenever the knights rode out from the Vale in search of them. Even Jon Arryn, as great a lord as any the Eyrie had ever known, had always traveled in strength when he crossed the mountains. Catelyns only strength was one elderly knight, armored in loyalty.No, she popular opinion, Riverrun and the Eyrie would have to wait. Her path ran north to Winterfell, where her sons and her duty were waiting for her. As soon as they were safely past the Neck, she could declare herself to one of Neds bannermen, and send riders racing ahead with orders to mount a watch on the kingsroad.The rain obscured the fields beyond the crossroads, but Catelyn saw the land clear enough in her memory. The food market was just crosswise the way, and the village a mile farther on, half a hundred white cottages surrounding a small stone sept. There would be more now the summer had been bulky and peaceful. North of here the kingsroad ran along the G reen Fork of the Trident, through fertile valleys and green woodlands, past halcyon towns and stout holdfasts and the castles of the river lords.Catelyn knew them all the Blackwoods and the brackens, ever enemies, whose quarrels her father was obliged to amazetle Lady Whent, last of her line, who dwelt with her ghosts in the hollow vaults of Harrenhal irascible Lord Frey, who had outlived seven wives and filled his twin castles with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and bastards and grandbastards as well. All of them were bannermen to the Tullys, their swords swear to the service of Riverrun. Catelyn wondered if that would be enough, if it came to war. Her father was the staunchest man whod ever lived, and she had no doubt that he would call his banners . . . but would the banners come? The Darrys and Rygers and Mootons had sworn oaths to Riverrun as well, yet they had fought with Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident, while Lord Frey had arrived with his levies well after the battle was over, leaving some doubt as to which army he had planned to join (theirs, he had assured the victors solemnly in the aftermath, but ever after her father had called him the Late Lord Frey). It must not come to war, Catelyn thought fervently. They must not let it.Ser Rodrik came for her just as the bell ceased its clangor. We had best make haste if we desire to eat tonight, my lady.It might be safer if we were not knight and lady until we pass the Neck, she told him. Common travelers attract less notice. A father and daughter taken to the road on some family business, say.As you say, my lady, Ser Rodrik agreed. It was only when she laughed that he realized what hed done. The old courtesies die hard, mymy daughter. He time-tested to tug on his missing whiskers, and sighed with exasperation.Catelyn took his arm. Come, Father, she say. Youll find that Masha Heddle sets a dandy table, I think, but try not to praise her. You truly dont want to see her smile.The co mmon room was long and drafty, with a row of huge wooden kegs at one end and a fireplace at the other. A serving boy ran back and forth with skewers of sum while Masha draw beer from the kegs, chewing her sourleaf all the while.The judicial systemes were crowded, townsfolk and farmers mingling freely with all manner of travelers. The crossroads made for odd companions dyers with black and purple hands shared a bench with rivermen reeking of fish, an ironsmith thick with muscle squeezed in beside a wizened old septon, hard-bitten sellswords and soft plump merchants swapped news like boon companions.The follow included more swords than Catelyn would have liked. Three by the fire wore the red entire badge of the Brackens, and there was a large party in blue steel ringmail and capes of a silvery grey. On their shoulder was another familiar sigil, the twin towers of House Frey. She studied their faces, but they were all too young to have known her. The senior among them would have be en no older than Bran when she went north.Ser Rodrik found them an empty place on the bench near the kitchen. Across the table a handsome youth was fingering a woodharp. Seven blessings to you, goodfolk, he said as they sat. An empty wine cup stood on the table before him.And to you, singer, Catelyn returned. Ser Rodrik called for bread and vegetable marrow and beer in a tone that meant now. The singer, a youth of some eighteen years, eyed them boldly and asked where they were going, and from then they had come, and what news they had, letting the questions fly as quick as arrows and never pausing for an answer. We left Kings Landing a fortnight ago, Catelyn replied, answering the safest of his questions.Thats where Im bound, the youth said. As she had suspected, he was more interested in telling his own story than in hearing theirs. Singers loved nothing half so well as the sound of their own voices. The Hands tourney means rich lords with fat purses. The last time I came away w ith more silver than I could carry . . . or would have, if I hadnt lost it all betting on the Kingslayer to win the day.The gods frown on the gambler, Ser Rodrik said sternly. He was of the north, and shared the Stark views on tour divulgents.They frowned on me, for certain, the singer said. Your merciless gods and the Knight of Flowers altogether did me in.No doubt that was a lesson for you, Ser Rodrik said.It was. This time my coin will champion Ser Loras.Ser Rodrik tried to tug at whiskers that were not there, but before he could frame a vanquish the serving boy came scurrying up. He laid trenchers of bread before them and filled them with chunks of browned meat off a skewer, dripping with hot juice. Another skewer held tiny onions, fire peppers, and fat mushrooms. Ser Rodrik set to lustily as the lad ran back to fetch them beer. My name is Marillion, the singer said, plucking a string on his woodharp. Doubtless youve heard me play somewhere?His manner made Catelyn smile. Few w andering singers ever ventured as far north as Winterfell, but she knew his like from her girlhood in Riverrun. I fear not, she told him.He drew a plaintive chord from the woodharp. That is your loss, he said. Who was the finest singer youve ever heard?Alia of Braavos, Ser Rodrik answered at once.Oh, Im much better than that old stick, Marillion said. If you have the silver for a song, Ill gladly show you.I might have a copper or two, but Id sooner toss it down a well than assume for your squall, Ser Rodrik groused. His opinion of singers was well known music was a lovely thing for girls, but he could not comprehend why any healthy boy would fill his hand with a harp when he might have had a sword.Your grandfather has a sour nature, Marillion said to Catelyn. I meant to do you honor. An royal court to your beauty. In truth, I was made to sing for kings and high lords.Oh, I can see that, Catelyn said. Lord Tully is cordial of song, I hear. No doubt youve been to Riverrun.A hundre d times, the singer said airily. They keep a chamber for me, and the young lord is like a brother.Catelyn smiled, wondering what Edmure would think of that. Another singer had once provide a girl her brother fancied he had hated the breed ever since. And Winterfell? she asked him. Have you traveled north?Why would I? Marillion asked. Its all blizzards and bearskins up there, and the Starks know no music but the howling of wolves. Distantly, she was aware of the door banging open at the far end of the room.Innkeep, a servants voice called out behind her, we have horses that want stabling, and my lord of Lannister requires a room and a hot bath.Oh, gods, Ser Rodrik said before Catelyn reached out to silence him, her fingers tightening hard around his forearm.Masha Heddle was bowing and smiling her hideous red smile. Im sorry, mlord, truly, were full up, every room.There were four of them, Catelyn saw. An old man in the black of the Nights Watch, two servants . . . and him, standing there small and bold as life. My men will steep in your stable, and as for myself, well, I do not require a large room, as you can plainly see. He flashed a plaguy grin. So long as the fires warm and the straw reasonably free of fleas, I am a happy man.Masha Heddle was beside herself. Mlord, theres nothing, its the tourney, theres no help for it, oh . . . Tyrion Lannister pulled a coin from his purse and flicked it up over his head, caught it, tossed it again. Even across the room, where Catelyn sat, the wink of gold was unmistakable.A freerider in a faded blue cloak lurched to his feet. Youre welcome to my room, mlord. like a shot theres a clever man, Lannister said as he sent the coin spinning across the room. The freerider snatched it from the air. And a nimble one to boot. The dwarf turned back to Masha Heddle. You will be able to manage food, I trust?Anything you like, mlord, anything at all, the innkeep promised. And may he choke on it, Catelyn thought, but it was Bran she sa w choking, drowning on his own blood.Lannister glanced at the nearest tables. My men will have whatever youre serving these people. Double portions, weve had a long hard ride. Ill take a roast fowlchicken, duck, pigeon, it makes no matter. And send up a flagon of your best wine. Yoren, will you sup with me?Aye, mlord, I will, the black brother replied.The dwarf had not so much as glanced toward the far end of the room, and Catelyn was thinking how grateful she was for the crowded benches between them when suddenly Marillion bounded to his feet. My lord of Lannister he called out. I would be pleased to entertain you while you eat. Let me sing you the lay of your fathers great success at Kings LandingNothing would be more likely to ruin my supper, the dwarf said dryly. His absurd eyes considered the singer briefly, started to move away . . . and found Catelyn. He looked at her for a moment, puzzled. She turned her face away, but too late. The dwarf was smiling. Lady Stark, what an u nexpected pleasure, he said. I was sorry to miss you at Winterfell.Marillion gaped at her, confusion giving way to chagrin as Catelyn rose slowly to her feet. She heard Ser Rodrik curse. If only the man had lingered at the Wall, she thought, if only . . .Lady . . . Stark? Masha Heddle said thickly.I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I bedded here, she told the innkeep. She could hear the muttering, feel the eyes upon her. Catelyn glanced around the room, at the faces of the knights and sworn swords, and took a deep breath to slow the frantic beating of her titty. Did she dare take the risk? There was no time to think it through, only the moment and the sound of her own voice ringing in her ears. You in the corner, she said to an older man she had not noticed until now. Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your surcoat, ser?The man got to his feet. It is, my lady.And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?She is, the man replied stoutly.Ser Rodrik rose quietly and unsnarled his sword in its scabbard. The dwarf was blinking at them, blank-faced, with puzzlement in his mismatched eyes.The red stallion was ever a welcome sight in Riverrun, she said to the trio by the fire. My father counts Jonos Bracken among his oldest and most loyal bannermen.The three men-at-arms exchanged uncertain looks. Our lord is honored by his trust, one of them said hesitantly.I envy your father all these fine friends, Lannister quipped, but I do not kinda see the purpose of this, Lady Stark.She ignored him, turning to the large party in blue and grey. They were the heart of the matter there were more than twenty of them. I know your sigil as well the twin towers of Frey. How fares your good lord, sers?Their captain rose. Lord Walder is well, my lady. He plans to take a new wife on his ninetieth name day, and has asked your lord father to honor the wedding with his presence.Tyrion Lannister sniggered. That was when Cat elyn knew he was hers. This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to mop up my son, a boy of seven, she proclaimed to the room at large, pointing. Ser Rodrik moved to her side, his sword in hand. In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the kings justice.She did not know what was more satisfying the sound of a dozen swords drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannisters face.