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“You need Tyrell,” Jaime broke in, “but not here. Ask him to capture Storm’s End for Tommen. Flatter him, and tell him you need him in the field, to replace Father. Mace fancies himself a mighty warrior. Either he will deliver Storm’s End to you, or he will muck it up and look a fool. Either way, you win.”
“Storm’s End?” Cersei looked thoughtful. “Yes, but. Lord Tyrell has made it tediously plain that he will not leave King’s Landing till Tommen marries Margaery.”
Jaime sighed. “Then let them wed. It will be years before Tommen is old enough to consummate the marriage. And until he does, the union can always be set aside. Give Tyrell his wedding and send him off to play at war.”
A wary smile crept across his sister’s face. “Even sieges have their dangers,” she murmured. “Why, our Lord of Highgarden might even lose his life in such a venture.”
“There is that risk,” conceded Jaime. “Especially if his patience runs thin this time, and he elects to storm the gate.”
Cersei gave him a lingering look. “You know,” she said, “for a moment you sounded quite like Father.”
BRIENNE
The gates of Duskendale were closed and barred. Through the predawn gloom the town walls shimmered palely. On their ramparts, wisps of fog moved like ghostly sentinels. A dozen wayns and oxcarts had drawn up outside the gates, waiting for the sun to rise. Brie
The farm folk gave her curious glances, but no one spoke to her. It is for me to talk to them, Brie
The woman shook her head, but her husband said, “Then she’s no maid, I’ll wager. Does the poor girl have a name?”
Brie
“No name? Well, the roads are full of nameless girls.”
“The lichyard’s even fuller,” said his wife.
As dawn broke, guardsmen appeared on the parapets. The farmers climbed onto their wagons and shook the reins. Brie
The guards were waving through the wayns with scarce a look, but when Brie
“I seek the Lord of Duskendale, or his maester.”
The captain’s eyes lingered on her shield. “The black bat of Lothston. Those are arms of ill repute.”
“They are not mine. I mean to have the shield repainted.”
“Aye?” The captain rubbed his stubbled chin. “My sister does such work, as it happens. You’ll find her at the house with the painted doors, across from the Seven Swords.” He gestured to the guards. “Let her pass, lads. It’s a wench.”
The gatehouse opened on a market square, where those who had entered before her were unloading to hawk their turnips, yellow onions, and sacks of barleycorn. Others were selling arms and armor, and very cheaply to judge from the prices they shouted out as she rode by. The looters come with the carrion crows after every battle. Brie
There were pine and linden shields to be had for pe
Duskendale was built around its harbor. North of town the chalk cliffs rose; to the south a rocky headland shielded the ships at anchor from storms coming up the narrow sea. The castle overlooked the port, its square keep and big drum towers visible from every part of town. In the crowded cobbled streets, it was easier to walk than ride, so Brie
The captain’s sister was not hard to find. The Seven Swords was the largest i
“Your door is very pretty,” she told the dark-haired woman who answered when she knocked. “What castle is that meant to be?”
“All castles,” said the captain’s sister. “The only one I know is the Dun Fort by the harbor. I made t’other in my head, what a castle ought to look like. I never seen a dragon neither, nor a griffin, nor a unicorn.” She had a cheerful ma
The arms of Tarth were quartered rose and azure, and bore a yellow sun and crescent moon. But so long as men believed her to be a murderess, Brie
The woman nodded. “I can paint it straightaway, but the paint will need to dry. Take a room at the Seven Swords, if it please you. I’ll bring the shield to you by morning.”
Brie