A Feast for Dragons

six
ships. Wild seas
. Blackbird
lost
with all hands, two Lyseni ships driven aground on Skane
, Talon
taking
water. Very bad here. Wildlings eating their own dead. Dead things in the
woods. Braavosi captains will only take women, children on their ships. Witch
women call us slavers. Attempt to take Storm Crow defeated, six crew dead, many
wildlings. Eight ravens left. Dead things in the water. Send help by land, seas
wracked by storms. From
Talon,
by hand of Maester Harmune
.
    Cotter Pyke had made his angry mark below.
    “Is it grievous, my lord?” asked Clydas.
    “Grievous enough.”
Dead things in the wood. Dead
things in the water. Six ships left, of the eleven that set sail
. Jon
Snow rolled up the parchment, frowning.
Night falls
, he
thought,
and now my war begins
.
    ----

    THE DISCARDED KNIGHT
    A
ll kneel for His Magnificence Hizdahr zo Loraq,
Fourteenth of That Noble Name, King of Meereen, Scion of Ghis, Octarch of the Old
Empire, Master of the Skahazadhan, Consort to Dragons and Blood of the Harpy,”
roared the herald. His voice echoed off the marble floor and rang amongst the
pillars.
    Ser Barristan Selmy slipped a hand beneath the fold of his
cloak and loosened his sword in its scabbard. No blades were allowed in the
presence of the king save those of his protectors. It seemed as though he still
counted amongst that number despite his dismissal. No one had tried to take his
sword, at least.
    Daenerys Targaryen had preferred to hold court from a bench
of polished ebony, smooth and simple, covered with the cushions that Ser
Barristan had found to make her more comfortable. King Hizdahr had replaced the
bench with two imposing thrones of gilded wood, their tall backs carved into
the shape of dragons. The king seated himself in the right-hand throne with a
golden crown upon his head and a jeweled sceptre in one pale hand. The second
throne remained vacant.
    The important throne
, thought Ser Barristan.
No dragon chair can replace a dragon no matter how elaborately it’s
carved
.
    To the right of the twin thrones stood Goghor the Giant, a
huge hulk of a man with a brutal, scarred face. To the left was the Spotted
Cat, a leopard skin flung over one shoulder. Back of them were Belaquo Bonebreaker
and the cold-eyed Khrazz.
Seasoned killers all
, thought Selmy,
but
it is one thing to face a foe in the pit when his coming is heralded by horns
and drums and another to find a hidden killer before he can strike
.
    The day was young and fresh, and yet he felt bone-tired, as
if he’d fought all night. The older he got, the less sleep Ser Barristan seemed
to need. As a squire he could sleep ten hours a night and still be yawning when
he stumbled out onto the practice yard. At three-and-sixty he found that five
hours a night was more than enough. Last night, he had scarce slept at all. His
bedchamber was a small cell off the queen’s apartments, originally slave
quarters; his furnishings consisted of a bed, a chamber pot, a wardrobe for his
clothing, even a chair should he want to sit. On a bedside table he kept a
beeswax candle and a small carving of the Warrior. Though he was not a pious
man, the carving made him feel less alone here in this queer alien city, and it
was to that he had turned in the black watches of night.
Shield me from
these doubts that gnaw at me
, he had prayed,
and give me the
strength to do what is right
. But neither prayer nor dawn had brought
him certainty.
    The hall was as crowded as the old knight had ever seen it,
but it was the missing faces that Barristan Selmy noted most: Missandei,
Belwas, Grey Worm, Aggo and Jhogo and Rakharo, Irri and Jhiqui, Daario Naharis.
In the Shavepate’s place stood a fat man in a muscled breastplate and lion’s
mask, his heavy legs poking out beneath a skirt of leather straps: Marghaz zo
Loraq, the king’s cousin, new commander of the Brazen Beasts. Selmy had already
formed a healthy contempt for the man. He had known his sort in King’s
Landing—fawning to his superiors, harsh to his inferiors, as blind as he was
boastful and too proud by half.
    Skahaz could be in the hall as well
, Selmy
realized,
that ugly face of his concealed behind a mask
. Two
score Brazen Beasts stood between the pillars, torchlight shining off the
polished brass of their masks. The Shavepate could be any one of them.
    The hall thrummed to the sound of a hundred low voices,
echoing off the pillars and the marble floor. It made an ominous sound, angry.
It reminded Selmy of the