A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

have these.” He raised his huge mailed hands up to show them, and Nute the Barber displayed his axe, a fearsome piece of steel. “I was a loyal brother,” Victarion went on. “When Balon was wed, it was me he sent to Harlaw to bring him back his bride. I led his longships into many a battle, and never lost but one. The first time Balon took a crown, it was me sailed into Lannisport to singe the lion’s tail. The second time, it was me he sent to skin the Young Wolf should he come howling home. All you’ll get from me is more of what you got from Balon. That’s all I have to say.”
    With that his champions began to chant:
“VICTARION! VICTARION! VICTARION KING!”
Below, his men were spilling out his chests, a cascade of silver, gold, and gems, a wealth of plunder. Captains scrambled to seize the richest pieces, shouting as they did so. “
VICTARION! VICTARION! VICTARION KING!
” Aeron watched the Crow’s Eye.
Will he speak now, or let the kingsmoot run its course?
Orkwood of Orkmont was whispering in Euron’s ear.
    But it was not Euron who put an end to the shouting, it was the
woman.
She put two fingers in her mouth and
whistled,
a sharp shrill sound that cut through the tumult like a knife through curds. “Nuncle!
Nuncle!
” Bending, she snatched up a twisted golden collar and bounded up the steps. Nute seized her by the arm, and for half a heartbeat Aeron was hopeful that his brother’s champions would keep her silent, but Asha wrenched free of the Barber’s hand and said something to Red Ralf that made him step aside. As she pushed past, the cheering died away. She was Balon Greyjoy’s daughter, and the crowd was curious to hear her speak.
    â€œIt was good of you to bring such gifts to my queensmoot, Nuncle,” she told Victarion, “but you need not have worn so much armor. I promise not to hurt you.” Asha turned to face the captains. “There’s no one braver than my nuncle, no one stronger, no one fiercer in a fight. And he counts to ten as quick as any man, I have seen him do it . . . though when he needs to go to twenty he does take off his boots.” That made them laugh. “He has no sons, though. His wives keep dying. The Crow’s Eye is his elder and has a better claim . . .”
    â€œHe does!” the Red Oarsman shouted from below.
    â€œAh, but my claim is better still.” Asha set the collar on her head at a jaunty angle, so the gold gleamed against her dark hair. “Balon’s brother cannot come before Balon’s son!”
    â€œBalon’s sons are dead,” cried Ralf the Limper. “All I see is Balon’s little daughter!”
    â€œDaughter?” Asha slipped a hand beneath her jerkin. “Oho! What’s this? Shall I show you? Some of you have not seen one since they weaned you.” They laughed again. “Teats on a king are a terrible thing, is that the song? Ralf, you have me, I
am
a woman . . . though not an
old
woman like you. Ralf the Limper . . . shouldn’t that be Ralf the Limp?” Asha drew a dirk from between her breasts. “I’m a mother too, and here’s my suckling babe!” She held it up. “And here, my champions.” They pushed past Victarion’s three to stand below her: Qarl the Maid, Tristifer Botley, and the knight Ser Harras Harlaw, whose sword Nightfall was as storied as Dunstan Drumm’s Red Rain. “My nuncle said you know him. You know me too—”
    â€œI want to know you better!” someone shouted.
    â€œGo home and know your wife,” Asha shot back. “Nuncle says he’ll give you more of what my father gave you. Well, what was that? Gold and glory, some will say.
Freedom,
ever sweet. Aye, it’s so, he gave us that . . . and widows too, as Lord Blacktyde will tell you. How many of you had your homes put to the torch when Robert came? How many had daughters raped and despoiled? Burnt towns and broken castles, my father gave you that.
Defeat
was what he gave you. Nuncle here will give you more. Not me.”
    â€œWhat will you give us?” asked Lucas Codd. “Knitting?”
    â€œAye, Lucas. I’ll knit us all a kingdom.” She tossed her dirk from hand to hand. “We need to take a lesson from the Young Wolf, who won every battle . . . and lost all.”
    â€œA wolf is not a kraken,” Victarion objected. “What the kraken grasps it does not