A Feast for Dragons

father says there will never be an end to it.”
    “There could be.”
    “How, my lord? The old wounds never heal, my father says.”
    “My father had a saying too. Never wound a foe when you can
kill him. Dead men don’t claim vengeance.”
    “Their sons do,” said Hoster, apologetically.
    “Not if you kill the sons as well. Ask the Casterlys about
that if you doubt me. Ask Lord and Lady Tarbeck, or the Reynes of Castamere.
Ask the Prince of Dragonstone.” For an instant, the deep red clouds that
crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar’s children, all wrapped up in
crimson cloaks.
    “Is that why you killed all the Starks?”
    “Not all,” said Jaime. “Lord Eddard’s daughters live. One
has just been wed. The other …”
Brienne, where are you? Have you
found her?
“… if the gods are good, she’ll forget she was a
Stark. She’ll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house
with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to
smash their heads against a wall.”
    “The gods are good,” his hostage said, uncertainly.
    You go on believing that
. Jaime let Honor
feel his spurs.
    Pennytree proved to be a much larger village than he had
anticipated. The war had been here too; blackened orchards and the scorched
shells of broken houses testified to that. But for every home in ruins three
more had been rebuilt. Through the gathering blue dusk Jaime glimpsed fresh
thatch upon a score of roofs, and doors made of raw green wood. Between a duck
pond and a blacksmith’s forge, he came upon the tree that gave the place its
name, an oak ancient and tall. Its gnarled roots twisted in and out of the
earth like a nest of slow brown serpents, and hundreds of old copper pennies
had been nailed to its huge trunk.
    Peck stared at the tree, then at the empty houses. “Where
are the people?”
    “Hiding,” Jaime told him.
    Inside the homes all the fires had been put out, but some
still smoked, and none of them were cold. The nanny goat that Hot Harry Merrell
found rooting through a vegetable garden was the only living creature to be
seen … but the village had a holdfast as strong as any in the
riverlands, with thick stone walls twelve feet high, and Jaime knew that was
where he’d find the villagers.
They hid behind those walls when raiders
came, that’s why there’s still a village here. And they are hiding there again,
from me
.
    He rode Honor up to the holdfast gates. “You in the
holdfast. We mean you no harm. We’re king’s men.”
    Faces appeared on the wall above the gate. “They was king’s
men burned our village,” one man called down. “Before that, some other king’s
men took our sheep. They were for a different king, but that didn’t matter none
to our sheep. King’s men killed Harsley and Ser Ormond, and raped Lacey till
she died.”
    “Not my men,” Jaime said. “Will you open your gates?”
    “When you’re gone we will.”
    Ser Kennos rode close to him. “We could break that gate down
easy enough, or put it to the torch.”
    “While they drop stones on us and feather us with arrows.”
Jaime shook his head. “It would be a bloody business, and for what? These
people have done us no harm. We’ll shelter in the houses, but I’ll have no
stealing. We have our own provisions.”
    As a half-moon crept up the sky, they staked their horses
out in the village commons and supped on salted mutton, dried apples, and hard
cheese. Jaime ate sparingly and shared a skin of wine with Peck and Hos the
hostage. He tried to count the pennies nailed to the old oak, but there were too
many of them and he kept losing count.
What’s that all about?
The Blackwood boy would tell him if he asked, but that would spoil the mystery.
    He posted sentries to see that no one left the confines of
the village. He sent out scouts as well, to make certain no enemy took them
unawares. It was near midnight when two came riding back with a woman they had
taken captive. “She rode up bold as you please, m’lord, demanding words with
you.”
    Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My lady. I had not thought to
see you again so soon.”
Gods be good, she looks ten years older than
when I saw her
last. And what’s happened to her face?
“That bandage … you’ve been wounded …”
    “A bite.” She touched the hilt of her sword, the sword that
he had given her.
Oathkeeper
. “My lord, you gave me a quest.”
    “The girl. Have you found her?”
    “I have,”