A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

beside the line of the river, under the circle. “We can’t go round west
of the lake, like I thought. East takes us back to the kingsroad.” He moved
the stick up to where the line and circle met. “Near as I recall, there’s a
town here. The holdfast’s stone, and there’s a lordling got his seat there too,
just a towerhouse, but he’ll have a guard, might be a knight or two. We follow
the river north, should be there before dark. They’ll have boats, so I mean to
sell all we got and hire us one.” He drew the stick up through the circle of
the lake, from bottom to top. “Gods be good, we’ll find a wind and sail across
the Gods Eye to Harrentown.” He thrust the point

down at the top of the circle. “We can buy new mounts there, or else take
shelter at Harrenhal. That’s Lady Whent’s seat, and she’s always been a friend
o’ the Watch.”
    Hot Pie’s eyes got wide. “There’s ghosts in
Harrenhal . . .”
    Yoren spat. “There’s for your ghosts.” He tossed the stick down in the mud.
“Mount up.”
    Arya was remembering the stories Old Nan used to tell of Harrenhal. Evil King
Harren had walled himself up inside, so Aegon unleashed his dragons and turned
the castle into a pyre. Nan said that fiery spirits still haunted the blackened
towers. Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in
the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn’t really believe that, and anyhow it had
all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn’t be ghosts at
Harrenhal, it would be
knights.
Arya could reveal herself to Lady
Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what
knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even
help the crying girl.
    The river track was no kingsroad, yet it was not half bad for what it was, and
for once the wagons rolled along smartly. They saw the first house an hour shy
of evenfall, a snug little thatch-roofed cottage surrounded by fields of wheat.
Yoren rode out ahead, hallooing, but got no answer. “Dead, might be. Or
hiding. Dobber, Rey, with me.” The three men went into the cottage. “Pots is
gone, no sign o’ any coin laid by,” Yoren muttered when they returned. “No
animals. Run, most like. Might

be we met ’em on the kingsroad.” At least the house and field had not been
burned, and there were no corpses about. Tarber found a garden out back, and
they pulled some onions and radishes and filled a sack with cabbages before
they went on their way.
    A little farther up the road, they glimpsed a forester’s cabin surrounded by
old trees and neatly stacked logs ready for the splitting, and later a
ramshackle stilt-house leaning over the river on poles ten feet tall, both
deserted. They passed more fields, wheat and corn and barley ripening in the
sun, but here there were no men sitting in trees, nor walking the rows with
scythes. Finally the town came into view; a cluster of white houses spread out
around the walls of the holdfast, a big sept with a shingled wooden roof, the
lord’s towerhouse sitting on a small rise to the west . . . and
no sign of any people, anywhere.
    Yoren sat on his horse, frowning through his tangle of beard. “Don’t like
it,” he said, “but there it is. We’ll go have us a look. A
careful
look. See maybe there’s some folk hiding. Might be they left a boat behind, or
some weapons we can use.”
    The black brother left ten to guard the wagons and the whimpery little girl,
and split the rest of them into four groups of five to search the town. “Keep
your eyes and ears open,” he warned them, before he rode off to the towerhouse
to see if there was any sign of the lordling or his guards.
    Arya found herself with Gendry, Hot Pie, and Lommy. Squat, kettle-bellied Woth
had pulled an oar on a galley once, which made him the next best thing they had
to a sailor, so Yoren told him to

take them down to the lakefront and see if they could find a boat. As they rode
between the silent white houses, gooseprickles crawled up Arya’s arms. This
empty town frightened her almost as much as the burnt holdfast where they’d
found the crying girl and the one-armed woman. Why would people run off and
leave their homes and everything? What could scare