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When Davos arrived at the Stone Drum, a dozen highborn knights and great ba
Queen Selyse’s uncle was a keg of a man with thick arms and bandy legs. He had the prominent ears of a Florent, even larger than his niece’s. The coarse hair that sprouted from his did not stop him hearing most of what went on in the castle. For ten years Ser Axell had served as castellan of Dragonstone while Sta
“And you, my lord.”
“I made note of you this morning as well. The false gods burned with a merry light, did they not?”
“They burned brightly.” Davos did not trust this man, for all his courtesy. House Florent had declared for Renly.
“The Lady Melisandre tells us that sometimes R’hllor permits his faithful servants to glimpse the future in flames. It seemed to me as I watched the fire this morning that I was looking at a dozen beautiful dancers, maidens garbed in yellow silk spi
Sta
Sta
Obediently, he selected a paper at random. “It looks handsome enough, Your Grace, but I fear I ca
“I’d forgotten.” A furrow of irritation showed between the king’s brows. “Pylos, read it to him.”
“Your Grace.” The maester took up one of the parchments and cleared his throat. “All men know me for the trueborn son of Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, by his lady wife Cassana of House Estermont. I declare upon the honor of my House that my beloved brother Robert, our late king, left no trueborn issue of his body, the boy Joffrey, the boy Tommen, and the girl Myrcella being abominations born of incest between Cersei La
“Make it Ser Jaime the Kingslayer henceforth,” Sta
“A harmless courtesy, Your Grace,” Pylos said.
“A lie. Take it out.” Sta
“I am yours to command, my king. As ever.”
Sta
Davos said, “That will be few enough.”
“Ser Davos speaks truly, Your Grace,” said Maester Pylos. “It would be better to have the letters read aloud.”
“Better, but more dangerous,” said Sta
“Give me knights to do the reading,” Davos said. “That will carry more weight than anything I might say.”
Sta
You can tell them , Davos thought, but will they believe? He glanced thoughtfully at Maester Pylos. The king caught the look. “Maester, perhaps you ought get to your writing. We will need a great many letters, and soon.”
“As you will.” Pylos bowed, and took his leave.
The king waited until he was gone before he said, “What is it you would not say in the presence of my maester, Davos?”
“My liege, Pylos is pleasant enough, but I ca
“Is it his fault the old man died?” Sta
“Pylos is the least of it. The letter . . . What did your lords make of it, I wonder?”
Sta
“Your words were blunt and strong.”
“And true.”
“And true. Yet you have no proof. Of this incest. No more than you did a year ago.”
“There’s proof of a sort at Storm’s End. Robert’s bastard. The one he fathered on my wedding night, in the very bed they’d made up for me and my bride. Delena was a Florent, and a maiden when he took her, so Robert acknowledged the babe. Edric Storm, they call him. He is said to be the very image of my brother. If men were to see him, and then look again at Joffrey and Tommen, they could not help but wonder, I would think.”
“Yet how are men to see him, if he is at Storm’s End?”
Sta