A Feast for Dragons

What does he make of the
Damphair’s notion?”
    “Victarion was sent word of your father’s death. And of this
kingsmoot too, I do not doubt. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
    Better a kingsmoot than a war. “I believe I’ll kiss
the Damphair’s smelly feet and pluck the seaweed from out between his toes.”
Asha wrenched loose her dirk and sheathed it once again. “A bloody kingsmoot! ”
    “On Old Wyk,” confirmed Lord Rodrik. “Though I pray it is
not bloody. I have been consulting Haereg’s History of the Ironborn. When last the salt kings and the rock kings met in kingsmoot, Urron of Orkmont
let his axemen loose among them, and Nagga’s ribs turned red with gore. House
Greyiron ruled unchosen for a thousand years from that dark day, until the
Andals came.”
    “You must lend me Haereg’s book, Nuncle.” She would need to
learn all she could of kingsmoots before she reached Old Wyk.
    “You may read it here. It is old and fragile.” He studied
her, frowning. “Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel, for the
nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will
perforce happen again, he said. I think of that whenever I contemplate the
Crow’s Eye. Euron Greyjoy sounds queerly like Urron Greyiron to these old ears.
I shall not go to Old Wyk. Nor should you.”
    Asha smiled. “And miss the first kingsmoot called in . . .
how long has it been, Nuncle?”
    “Four thousand years, if Haereg can be believed. Half that,
if you accept Maester Denestan’s arguments in Questions. Going to Old
Wyk serves no purpose. This dream of kingship is a madness in our blood. I told
your father so the first time he rose, and it is more true now than it was
then. It’s land we need, not crowns. With Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister
contending for the Iron Throne, we have a rare chance to improve our lot. Let
us take one side or the other, help them to victory with our fleets, and claim
the lands we need from a grateful king.”
    “That might be worth some thought, once I sit the Seastone
Chair,” said Asha.
    Her uncle sighed. “You will not want to hear this, Asha, but
you will not be chosen. No woman has ever ruled the ironborn. Gwynesse is seven years my elder, but when our father died the Ten Towers came to me. It
will be the same for you. You are Balon’s daughter, not his son. And you have
three uncles.”
    “Four.”
    “Three kraken uncles. I do not count.”
    “You do with me. So long as I have my nuncle of Ten Towers,
I have Harlaw.” Harlaw was not the largest of the
Iron
Islands
,
but it was the richest and most populous, and Lord Rodrik’s power was not to be
despised. On Harlaw, Harlaw had no rival. The Volmarks and Stonetrees had large
holdings on the isle and boasted famous captains and fierce warriors of their
own, but even the fiercest bent beneath the scythe. The Kennings and the Myres,
once bitter foes, had long ago been beaten down to vassals.
    “My cousins do me fealty, and in war I should command their
swords and sails. In kingsmoot, though . . .” Lord Rodrik shook his head.
“Beneath the bones of Nagga every captain stands as equal. Some may shout your
name, I do not doubt it. But not enough. And when the shouts ring out for Victarion
or the Crow’s Eye, some of those now drinking in my hall will join the rest. I
say again, do not sail into this storm. Your fight is hopeless.”
    “No fight is hopeless till it has been fought. I have the
best claim. I am the heir of Balon’s body.”
    “You are still a willful child. Think of your poor mother.
You are all that Lanny has left to her. I will put a torch to Black Wind if need be, to keep you here.”
    “What, and make me swim to Old Wyk?”
    “A long cold swim, for a crown you cannot keep. Your father
had more courage than sense. The
    Old
Way
    served
the isles well when we were one small kingdom amongst many, but Aegon’s
Conquest put an end to that. Balon refused to see what was plain before him.
The
Old
Way
    died
with Black Harren and his sons.”
    “I know that.” Asha had loved her father, but she did not
delude herself. Balon had been blind in some respects. A brave man but a bad
lord. “Does that mean we must live and die as thralls to the Iron Throne?
If there are rocks to starboard and a storm to port, a wise captain steers a
third course.”
    “Show me this third course.”
    “I shall . . . at my queensmoot. Nuncle, how can you even
think of not attending? This will be history,