A Feast for Dragons

right to hold my cock. And you have six sons,
my lord, not four.”
    “Once. Robert was my youngest and never strong. He died nine
days ago, of a looseness of the bowels. Lucas was murdered at the Red Wedding.
Walder Frey’s fourth wife was a Blackwood, but kinship counts for no more than
guest right at the Twins. I should like to bury Lucas beneath the tree, but the
Freys have not yet seen fit to return his bones to me.”
    “I’ll see that they do. Was Lucas your eldest son?”
    “My second. Brynden is my eldest, and my heir. Next comes
Hoster. A bookish boy, I fear.”
    “They have books in King’s Landing too. I recall my little brother
reading them from time to time. Perhaps your son would like a look at them. I
will accept Hoster as our hostage.”
    Blackwood’s relief was palpable. “Thank you, my lord.” He
hesitated a moment. “If I may be so bold, you would do well to require a hostage
from Lord Jonos too. One of his daughters. For all his rutting, he has not
proved man enough to father sons.”
    “He had a bastard son killed in the war.”
    “Did he? Harry was a bastard, true enough, but whether Jonos
sired him is a thornier question. A fair-haired boy, he was, and comely. Jonos
is neither.” Lord Tytos got to his feet. “Will you do me the honor of taking
supper with me?”
    “Some other time, my lord.” The castle was starving; no good
would be served by Jaime stealing food from their mouths. “I cannot linger.
Riverrun awaits.”
    “Riverrun? Or King’s Landing?”
    “Both.”
    Lord Tytos did not attempt to dissuade him. “Hoster can be
ready to depart within the hour.”
    He was. The boy met Jaime by the stables, with a bedroll
slung over one shoulder and a bundle of scrolls beneath his arm. He could not
have been any older than sixteen, yet he was even taller than his father,
almost seven feet of legs and shins and elbows, a gangling, gawky boy with a
cowlick. “Lord Commander. I’m your hostage, Hoster. Hos, they call me.” He
grinned.
    Does he think this is a lark?
“Pray, who are
they?”
    “My friends. My brothers.”
    “I am not your friend and I am not your brother.” That
cleaned the grin off the boy’s face. Jaime turned to Lord Tytos. “My lord, let
there be no misunderstanding here. Lord Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Sandor
Clegane, Brynden Tully, this woman Stoneheart … all these are outlaws
and rebels, enemies to the king and all his leal subjects. If I should learn
that you or yours are hiding them, protecting them, or assisting them in any
way, I will not hesitate to send you your son’s head. I hope you understand
that. Understand this as well: I am not Ryman Frey.”
    “No.” All trace of warmth had left Lord Blackwood’s mouth.
“I know who I am dealing with. Kingslayer.”
    “Good.” Jaime mounted and wheeled Honor toward the gate. “I
wish you a good harvest and the joy of the king’s peace.”
    He did not ride far. Lord Jonos Bracken was waiting for him
outside Raventree, just beyond the range of a good crossbow. He was mounted on
an armored destrier and had donned his plate and mail, and a grey steel
greathelm with a horsehair crest. “I saw them pull the direwolf banner down,”
he said when Jaime reached him. “Is it done?”
    “Done and done. Go home and plant your fields.”
    Lord Bracken raised his visor. “I trust I have more fields
to plant than when you went into that castle.”
    “Buckle, Woodhedge, Honeytree and all its hives.” He was
forgetting one. “Oh, and Crossbow Ridge.”
    “A mill,” said Bracken. “I must have a mill.”
    “Lord’s Mill.”
    Lord Jonos snorted. “Aye, that will serve. For now.” He
pointed at Hoster Blackwood, riding back with Peck. “Is this what he gave you
for a hostage? You were cozened, ser. A weakling, this one. Water for blood.
Never mind how tall he is, any one of my girls could snap him like a rotten
twig.”
    “How many daughters do you have, my lord?” Jaime asked him.
    “Five. Two by my first wife and three by my third.” Too
late, he seemed to realize that he might have said too much.
    “Send one of them to court. She will have the privilege of
attending the Queen Regent.”
    Bracken’s face grew dark as he realized the import of those
words. “Is this how you repay the friendship of Stone Hedge?”
    “It is a great honor to wait upon the queen,” Jaime reminded
his lordship. “You might want to impress that on her. We’ll look for the girl
before the year is