A Dance With Dragons

said Lady Leona from her stool.
    Davos thought it best to ignore her. “When Robb Stark took up arms against the bastard Joffrey-called-Baratheon, White Harbor marched with him. Lord Stark has fallen, but his war goes on.”
    “Robb Stark was my liege lord,” said Lord Wyman. “Who is this man Stannis? Why does he trouble us? He never felt the need to journey north before, as best I can recall. Yet he turns up now, a beaten cur with his helm in his hand, begging for alms.”
    “He came to save the realm, my lord,” Davos insisted. “To defend your lands against the ironborn and the wildlings.”
    Next to the high seat, Ser Marlon Manderly gave a snort of disdain. “It has been centuries since White Harbor has seen any wildlings, and the ironmen have never troubled this coast. Does Lord Stannis propose to defend us from snarks and dragons too?”
    Laughter swept the Merman’s Court, but at Lord Wyman’s feet, Lady Leona began to sob. “Ironmen from the isles, wildlings from beyond the Wall … and now this traitor lord with his outlaws, rebels, and sorcerers.” She pointed a finger at Davos. “We have heard of your red witch, oh yes. She would turn us against the Seven to bow before a fire demon!”
    Davos had no love for the red priestess, but he dare not let Lady Leona go unanswered. “Lady Melisandre is a priestess of the red god. Queen Selyse has adopted her faith, along with many others, but more of His Grace’s followers still worship the Seven. Myself among them.” He prayed no one would ask him to explain about the sept at Dragonstone or the godswood at Storm’s End. If they ask, I must needs tell them. Stannis would not have me lie.
    “The Seven defend White Harbor,” Lady Leona declared. “We do not fear your red queen or her god. Let her send what spells she will. The prayers of godly men will shield us against evil.”
    “Indeed.” Lord Wyman gave Lady Leona a pat on the shoulder. “Lord Davos, if you are a lord, I know what your so-called king would have of me. Steel and silver and a bended knee.” He shifted his weight to lean upon an elbow. “Before he was slain, Lord Tywin offered White Harbor full pardon for our support of the Young Wolf. He promised that my son would be returned to me once I paid a ransom of three thousand dragons and proved my loyalty beyond a doubt. Roose Bolton, who is named our Warden of the North, requires that I give up my claim to Lord Horn-wood’s lands and castles but swears my other holdings shall remain untouched. Walder Frey, his good-father, offers one of his daughters to be my wife, and husbands for my son’s daughters here behind me. These terms seem generous to me, a good basis for a fair and lasting peace. You would have me spurn them. So I ask you, Onion Knight—what does Lord Stannis offer me in return for my allegiance?”
    War and woe and the screams of burning men, Davos might have said. “The chance to do your duty,” he replied instead. That was the answer Stannis would have given Wyman Manderly. The Hand should speak with the king’s voice.
    Lord Wyman sagged back in his chair. “Duty. I see.”
    “White Harbor is not strong enough to stand alone. You need His Grace as much as he needs you. Together you can defeat your common enemies.”
    “My lord,” said Ser Marlon, in his ornate silver armor, “will you permit me to ask a few questions of Lord Davos?”
    “As you wish, cousin.” Lord Wyman closed his eyes.
    Ser Marlon turned to Davos. “How many northern lords have declared for Stannis? Tell us that.”
    “Arnolf Karstark has vowed to join His Grace.”
    “Arnolf is no true lord, only a castellan. What castles does Lord Stannis hold at present, pray?”
    “His Grace has taken the Nightfort for his seat. In the south, he holds Storm’s End and Dragonstone.”
    Maester Theomore cleared his throat. “Only for the nonce. Storm’s End and Dragonstone are lightly held and must soon fall. And the Nightfort is a haunted ruin, a drear and dreadful place.”
    Ser Marlon went on. “How many men can Stannis put into the field, can you tell us that? How many knights ride with him? How many bowmen, how many freeriders, how many men-at-arms?”
    Too few, Davos knew. Stannis had come north with no more than fifteen hundred men … but if he told them that, his mission here was doomed. He fumbled for words and found none.
    “Your silence is all the answer I require, ser. Your king brings us only enemies.” Ser Marlon turned