A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

hand.” He plucked a grape, and squeezed
it between thumb and forefinger

until the skin burst. Juice ran down between his fingers.
    A serving girl pushed her way through, swatting at the hands that groped her as
she passed. Davos ordered a tankard of ale, turned back to Saan, and said,
“How well is the city defended?”
    The other shrugged. “The walls are high and strong, but who will man them?
They are building scorpions and spitfires, oh, yes, but the men in the golden
cloaks are too few and too green, and there are no others. A swift strike, like
a hawk plummeting at a hare, and the great city will be ours. Grant us wind to
fill our sails, and your king could sit upon his Iron Throne by evenfall on the
morrow. We could dress the dwarf in motley and prick his little cheeks with the
points of our spears to make him dance for us, and mayhaps your goodly king
would make me a gift of the beautiful Queen Cersei to warm my bed for a night.
I have been too long away from my wives, and all in his service.”
    â€œPirate,” said Davos. “You have no wives, only concubines, and you have been
well paid for every day and every ship.”
    â€œOnly in promises,” said Salladhor Saan mournfully. “Good ser, it is gold I
crave, not words on papers.” He popped a grape into his mouth.
    â€œYou’ll have your gold when we take the treasury in King’s Landing. No man in
the Seven Kingdoms is more honorable than Stannis Baratheon. He will keep his
word.” Even as Davos spoke, he thought,
This world is twisted beyond
hope, when lowborn smugglers must vouch for the honor of kings.
    â€œSo he has said and said. And so I say, let us do this

thing. Even these grapes could be no more ripe than that city, my old
friend.”
    The serving girl returned with his ale. Davos gave her a copper. “Might be we
could take King’s Landing, as you say,” he said as he lifted the tankard,
“but how long would we hold it? Tywin Lannister is known to be at Harrenhal
with a great host, and Lord Renly . . .”
    â€œAh, yes, the young brother,” said Salladhor Saan. “That part is not so
good, my friend. King Renly bestirs himself. No, here he is
Lord
Renly, my pardons. So many kings, my tongue grows weary of the word. The
brother Renly has left Highgarden with his fair young queen, his flowered lords
and shining knights, and a mighty host of foot. He marches up your road of
roses toward the very same great city we were speaking of.”
    â€œHe takes his
bride
?”
    The other shrugged. “He did not tell me why. Perhaps he is loath to part with
the warm burrow between her thighs, even for a night. Or perhaps he is that
certain of his victory.”
    â€œThe king must be told.”
    â€œI have attended to it, good ser. Though His Grace frowns so whenever he does
see me that I tremble to come before him. Do you think he would like me better
if I wore a hair shirt and never smiled? Well, I will not do it. I am an honest
man, he must suffer me in silk and samite. Or else I shall take my ships where
I am better loved. That sword was not Lightbringer, my friend.”
    The sudden shift in subject left Davos uneasy. “Sword?”
    â€œA sword plucked from fire, yes. Men tell me things, it is my pleasant
smile. How shall a burnt sword serve Stannis?”
    â€œA
burning
sword,” corrected Davos.
    â€œBurnt,” said Salladhor Saan, “and be glad of that,
my friend. Do you know
the tale of the forging of Lightbringer? I shall tell it to you. It was a time
when darkness lay heavy on the world. To oppose it, the hero must have a hero’s
blade, oh, like none that had ever been. And so for thirty days and thirty
nights Azor Ahai labored sleepless in the temple, forging a blade in the sacred
fires. Heat and hammer and fold, heat and hammer and fold, oh, yes, until the
sword was done. Yet when
he plunged
it into water to temper the steel it burst
asunder.
    â€œBeing a hero, it was not for him to shrug and go in search of excellent
grapes such as these, so again he began. The second time it took him fifty days
and fifty nights, and this sword seemed even finer than the first. Azor Ahai
captured a lion, to temper the blade by plunging it through the beast’s red
heart, but once more the steel shattered and split. Great was his woe and great
was his sorrow then, for he knew what he must