A Feast for Dragons

would of course
be our great pleasure to lend him whatever help he needs.”
    “Help,”
the raven screamed.
“Help,
help, help.”
    Much of this Jon had surmised the moment he learned that the
Iron Bank had sent an envoy to the Wall. “When last we heard, His Grace was
marching on Winterfell to confront Lord Bolton and his allies. You may seek him
there if you wish, though that carries a risk. You could find yourself caught
up in his war.”
    Tycho bowed his head. “We who serve the Iron Bank face death
full as often as you who serve the Iron Throne.”
    Is that whom I serve?
Jon Snow was no longer
certain. “I can provide you with horses, provisions, guides, whatever is
required to get you as far as Deepwood Motte. From there you will need to make
your own way to Stannis.”
And you may well find his head upon a spike
.
“There will be a price.”
    “Price,”
screamed Mormont’s raven.
“Price,
price.”
    “There is always a price, is there not?” The Braavosi
smiled. “What does the Watch require?”
    “Your ships, for a start. With their crews.”
    “All three? How will I return to Braavos?”
    “I only need them for a single voyage.”
    “A hazardous voyage, I assume.
For a start
,
you said?”
    “We need a loan as well. Gold enough to keep us fed till
spring. To buy food and hire ships to bring it to us.”
    “Spring?” Tycho sighed. “It is not possible, my lord.”
    What was it Stannis had said to him?
You haggle like
a crone with a codfish, Lord Snow. Did Lord Eddard father you on a fishwife?
Perhaps he had at that.
    It took the better part of an hour before the impossible
became possible, and another hour before they could agree on terms. The flagon
of mulled wine that Satin delivered helped them settle the more nettlesome
points. By the time Jon Snow signed the parchment the Braavosi drew up, both of
them were half-drunk and quite unhappy. Jon thought that a good sign.
    The three Braavosi ships would bring the fleet at Eastwatch
up to eleven, including the Ibbenese whaler that Cotter Pyke had commandeered
on Jon’s order, a trading galley out of Pentos similarly impressed, and three
battered Lysene warships, remnants of Salladhor Saan’s former fleet driven back
north by the autumn storms. All three of Saan’s ships had been in dire need of
refitting, but by now the work should be complete.
    Eleven ships was no wise enough, but if he waited any
longer, the free folk at Hardhome would be dead by the time the rescue fleet
arrived.
Sail now or not at all
. Whether Mother Mole and her
people would be desperate enough to entrust their lives to the Night’s Watch,
though …
    The day had darkened by the time he and Tycho Nestoris left
the solar. Snow had begun to fall. “Our respite was a brief one, it would
seem.” Jon drew his cloak about himself more tightly.
    “Winter is nigh upon us. The day I left Braavos, there was
ice on the canals.”
    “Three of my men passed through Braavos not long ago,” Jon
told him. “An old maester, a singer, and a young steward. They were escorting a
wildling girl and her child to Oldtown. I do not suppose you chanced to
encounter them?”
    “I fear not, my lord. Westerosi pass through Braavos every
day, but most come and go from the Ragman’s Harbor. The ships of the Iron Bank
moor at the Purple Harbor. If you wish, I can make inquiries after them when I
return home.”
    “No need. By now they should be safe in Oldtown.”
    “Let us hope so. The narrow sea is perilous this time of
year, and of late there have been troubling reports of strange ships seen
amongst the Stepstones.”
    “Salladhor Saan?”
    “The Lysene pirate? Some say he has returned to his old
haunts, this is so. And Lord Redwyne’s war fleet creeps through the Broken Arm
as well. On its way home, no doubt. But these men and their ships are
well-known to us. No, these other sails … from farther east,
perhaps … one hears queer talk of dragons.”
    “Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a
bit.”
    “My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We
Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its
dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons.”
    No, I suppose not
. “My apologies, Lord
Tycho.”
    “None is required, Lord Commander. Now I find that I am
hungry. Lending such large sums of gold will give a man an appetite. Will you
be so good as to point me to your feast hall?”
    “I will take you there myself.” Jon