A Feast for Dragons

sword and shield, horse and
lance … and chivalry, the code that made a knight more than any pit
fighter. Daenerys would need protectors her own age about her after he was
gone, and Ser Barristan was determined to give her such.
    The lads he was instructing ranged in age from eight to
twenty. He had started with more than sixty of them, but the training had
proved too rigorous for many. Less than half that number now remained, but some
showed great promise.
With no king to guard, I will have more time to
train them now
, he realized as he walked from pair to pair, watching
them go at one another with blunted swords and spears with rounded heads.
Brave
boys. Baseborn, aye, but some will make good knights, and they love the queen.
If not for her, all of them would have ended in the pits. King Hizdahr has his
pit fighters, but Daenerys will have knights
.
    “Keep your shield up,” he called. “Show me your strokes.
Together now. Low, high, low, low, high, low …”
    Selmy took his simple supper out onto the queen’s terrace
that night and ate it as the sun went down. Through the purple twilight he
watched fires waken one by one in the great stepped pyramids, as the
many-colored bricks of Meereen faded to grey and then to black. Shadows
gathered in the streets and alleys below, making pools and rivers. In the dusk,
the city seemed a tranquil place, even beautiful.
That is pestilence,
not peace
, the old knight told himself with his last sip of wine.
    He did not wish to be conspicuous, so when he was finished
with his supper he changed out of his court clothes, trading the white cloak of
the Queensguard for a hooded brown traveler’s cloak such as any common man
might wear. He kept his sword and dagger.
This could still be some trap
.
He had little trust in Hizdahr and less in Reznak mo Reznak. The perfumed
seneschal could well be part of this, trying to lure him into a secret meeting
so he could sweep up him and Skahaz both and charge them with conspiring
against the king.
If the Shavepate speaks treason, he will leave me no
choice but to arrest him. Hizdahr is my queen’s consort, however little I may
like it. My duty is to him, not Skahaz
.
    Or was it?
    The first duty of the Kingsguard was to defend the king from
harm or threat. The white knights were sworn to obey the king’s commands as
well, to keep his secrets, counsel him when counsel was requested and keep
silent when it was not, serve his pleasure and defend his name and honor.
Strictly speaking, it was purely the king’s choice whether or not to extend
Kingsguard protection to others, even those of royal blood. Some kings thought
it right and proper to dispatch Kingsguard to serve and defend their wives and
children, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins of greater and lesser degree,
and occasionally even their lovers, mistresses, and bastards. But others
preferred to use household knights and men-at-arms for those purposes, whilst
keeping their seven as their own personal guard, never far from their sides.
    If the queen had commanded me to protect Hizdahr, I
would have had no choice but to obey
. But Daenerys Targaryen had never
established a proper Queensguard even for herself nor issued any commands in
respect to her consort.
The world was simpler when I had a lord
commander to decide such matters
, Selmy reflected.
Now I am the
lord commander, and it is hard to know which path is right
.
    When at last he came to the bottom of the last flight of
steps, he found himself all but alone amongst the torchlit corridors inside the
pyramid’s massive brick walls. The great gates were closed and barred, as he
had anticipated. Four Brazen Beasts stood guard outside those doors, four more
within. It was those that the old knight encountered—big men, masked as boar,
bear, vole, and manticore.
    “All quiet, ser,” the bear told him.
    “Keep it so.” It was not unknown for Ser Barristan to walk
around at night, to make certain the pyramid was secure.
    Deeper inside the pyramid, another four Brazen Beasts had
been set to guard the iron doors outside the pit where Viserion and Rhaegal
were chained. The light of the torches shimmered off their masks—ape, ram,
wolf, crocodile.
    “Have they been fed?” Ser Barristan asked.
    “Aye, ser,” replied the ape. “A sheep apiece.”
    And how long will that suffice, I wonder?
As
the dragons grew, so did their appetites.
    It was time to find the Shavepate. Ser Barristan made his
way past the elephants and the