A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

else?”
    She furrowed her brow. “Love?”
    â€œAye, love of gold. Unlike your good Ser Creighton, I did fight upon the Blackwater, but on the losing side. My ransom ruined me. You know who Varys is, I trust? The eunuch has offered a plump bag of gold for this girl you’ve never heard of. I am not a greedy man. If some oversized wench would help me find this naughty child, I would split the Spider’s coin with her.”
    â€œI thought you were in this merchant’s hire.”
    â€œOnly so far as Duskendale. Hibald is as niggardly as he is fearful. And he is
very
fearful. What say you, wench?”
    â€œI know no Sansa Stark,” she insisted. “I am searching for my sister, a highborn girl . . .”
    â€œ. . . with blue eyes and auburn hair, aye. Pray, who is this knight who travels with your sister? Or did you name him fool?” Ser Shadrich did not wait for her answer, which was good, since she had none. “A certain fool vanished from King’s Landing the night King Joffrey died, a stout fellow with a nose full of broken veins, one Ser Dontos the Red, formerly of Duskendale. I pray your sister and
her
drunken fool are not mistaken for the Stark girl and Ser Dontos. That could be most unfortunate.” He put his heels into his courser and trotted on ahead.
    Even Jaime Lannister had seldom made Brienne feel such a fool.
You are not the only hunter in the woods.
The woman Brella had told her how Joffrey had stripped Ser Dontos of his spurs, how Lady Sansa begged Joffrey for his life.
He helped her flee,
Brienne had decided, when she heard the tale.
Find Ser Dontos, and I will find Sansa.
She should have known there would be others who would see it too.
Some may even be less savory than Ser Shadrich.
She could only hope that Ser Dontos had hidden Sansa well.
But if so, how will I ever find her?
    She hunched her shoulders down and rode on, frowning.
    Night was gathering by the time their party came upon the inn, a tall, timbered building that stood beside a river junction, astride an old stone bridge. That was the inn’s name, Ser Creighton told them: the Old Stone Bridge. The innkeep was a friend of his. “Not a bad cook, and the rooms have no more fleas than most,” he vouched. “Who’s for a warm bed tonight?”
    â€œNot us, unless your friend is giving them away,” said Ser Illifer the Penniless. “We have no coin for rooms.”
    â€œI can pay for the three of us.” Brienne did not lack for coin; Jaime had seen to that. In her saddlebags she’d found a purse fat with silver stags and copper stars, a smaller one stuffed with golden dragons, and a parchment commanding all loyal subjects of the king to assist the bearer, Brienne of House Tarth, who was about His Grace’s business. It was signed in a childish hand by Tommen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
    Hibald was for stopping too, and bid his men to leave the wagon near the stables. Warm yellow light shone through the diamond-shaped panes of the inn’s windows, and Brienne heard a stallion trumpet at the scent of her mare. She was loosening the saddle when a boy came out the stable door, and said, “Let me do that, ser.”
    â€œI am no
ser,
” she told him, “but you may take the horse. See that she is fed and brushed and watered.”
    The boy reddened. “Beg pardons, m’lady. I thought . . .”
    â€œIt is a common mistake.” Brienne gave him the reins and followed the others into the inn, with her saddlebags across a shoulder and her bedroll tucked up beneath one arm.
    Sawdust covered the plank floor of the common room, and the air smelled of hops and smoke and meat. A roast was spitting and crackling over the fire, unattended for the moment. Six locals sat about a table, talking, but they broke off when the strangers entered. Brienne could feel their eyes. Despite chain mail, cloak, and jerkin, she felt naked. When one man said, “Have a look at that,” she knew he was not speaking of Ser Shadrich.
    The innkeep appeared, clutching three tankards in each hand and slopping ale at every step.
    â€œDo you have rooms, good man?” the merchant asked him.
    â€œI might,” the innkeep said, “for them as has coin.”
    Ser Creighton Longbough looked offended. “Naggle, is that how you would greet an old friend? ’Tis me,