A Feast for Dragons

her
away. “Did you think you were the first to come seeking after Dontos? More like
the twenty-first. The gold cloaks were here within days of the king’s murder,
with Lord Tywin’s warrant. And what do you have, pray?”
    Brienne showed him the letter, with Tommen’s seal and
childish signature. The maester hmmmm ed and hrrrr ed, picked at
the wax, and finally gave it back. “It seems in order.” He climbed onto a stool
and gestured Brienne to another. “I never knew Ser Dontos. He was a boy when he
left Duskendale. The Hollards were a noble House once, ’tis true. You know
their arms? Barry red and pink, with three golden crowns upon a blue chief. The
Darklyns were petty kings during the Age of Heroes, and three took Hollard
wives. Later their little realm was swallowed up by larger kingdoms, yet the
Darklyns endured and the Hollards served them . . . aye, even in defiance. You
know of that?”
    “A little.” Her own maester used to say that it was the
Defiance of Duskendale that had driven King Aerys mad.
    “In Duskendale they love Lord Denys still, despite the woe
he brought them. ’Tis Lady Serala that they blame, his Myrish wife. The Lace
Serpent, she is called. If Lord Darklyn had only wed a Staunton or a Stokeworth
. . . well, you know how smallfolk will go on. The Lace Serpent filled her
husband’s ear with Myrish poison, they say, until Lord Denys rose against his
king and took him captive. In the taking, his master-at-arms Ser Symon Hollard
cut down Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard. For half a year Aerys was held
within these very walls, whilst the King’s Hand sat outside Duskendale with a
mighty host. Lord Tywin had sufficient strength to storm the town any time he
wished, but Lord Denys sent word that at the first sign of assault he’d kill
the king.”
    Brienne remembered what came next. “The king was rescued,” she
said. “Barristan the Bold brought him out.”
    “He did,” the maester said. “Once Lord Denys lost his
hostage, he opened his gates and ended his defiance rather than let Lord Tywin
take the town. He bent the knee and begged for mercy, but the king was not of a
forgiving mind. Lord Denys lost his head, as did his brothers and his sister,
uncles, cousins, all the lordly Darklyns. The Lace Serpent was burned alive,
poor woman, though her tongue was torn out first, and her female parts, with
which it was said that she had enslaved her lord. Half of Duskendale will still
tell you that Aerys was too kind to her.”
    “And the Hollards?”
    “Attainted and destroyed,” said the maester. “I was forging
my chain at the Citadel when this happened, but I have read the accounts of
their trials and punishments. Ser Jon Hollard the Steward was wed to Lord
Denys’s sister and died with his wife, as did their young son, who was
half-Darklyn. Robin Hollard was a squire, and when the king was seized he
danced around him and pulled his beard. He died upon the rack. Ser Symon
Hollard was slain by Ser Barristan during the king’s escape. The Hollard lands
were taken, their castle torn down, their villages put to the torch. As with
the Darklyns, House Hollard was extinguished.”
    “Save for Dontos.”
    “True enough. Young Dontos was the son of Ser Steffon
Hollard, the twin brother of Ser Symon, who had died of a fever some years
before and had no part in the Defiance. Aerys would have taken the boy’s head
off nonetheless, but Ser Barristan asked that his life be spared. The king
could not refuse the man who’d saved him, so Dontos was taken to King’s Landing
as a squire. To my knowledge he never returned to Duskendale, and why should
he? He held no lands here, had neither kin nor castle. If Dontos and this
northern girl helped murder our sweet king, it seems to me that they would want
to put as many leagues as they could betwixt themselves and justice. Look for
them in Oldtown, if you must, or across the narrow sea. Look for them in Dorne,
or on the Wall. Look elsewhere. ” He rose. “I hear my ravens calling. You
will forgive me if I bid you good morrow.”
    The walk back to the inn seemed longer than the walk to the
Dun Fort, though perhaps that was only her mood. She would not find Sansa Stark
in Duskendale, that seemed plain. If Ser Dontos had taken her to Oldtown or
across the narrow sea, as the maester seemed to think, Brienne’s quest was
hopeless. What was there for her in Oldtown? she asked herself. The
maester never knew her, no more than he knew Hollard.