A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

bay. He would wait for the tide to turn before
coming about. Storm’s End dwindled behind them, but the red woman seemed
unconcerned. “Are you a good man, Davos Seaworth?” she asked.
    Would a good man be doing this?
“I am a man,” he said. “I am kind
to my wife, but I have known other women. I have tried to be a father to my
sons, to help make them a place in this world. Aye, I’ve broken laws, but I
never felt evil until tonight. I would say my parts are mixed, m’lady. Good
and
bad.”
    â€œA grey man,” she said. “Neither white nor black, but partaking of both. Is
that what you are, Ser Davos?”
    â€œWhat if I am? It seems to me that most men are grey.”
    â€œIf half of an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. A man is good,
or he is evil.”
    The fires behind them had melted into one vague glow against the black
sky, and the land was almost out of sight. It was time to come about. “Watch
your head, my lady.” He pushed on the tiller, and the small boat threw up a
curl of black water as

she turned. Melisandre leaned under the swinging yard, one hand on the gunwale,
calm as ever. Wood creaked, canvas cracked, and water splashed, so loudly a man
might swear the castle was sure to hear. Davos knew better. The endless crash
of wave on rock was the only sound that ever penetrated the massive seaward
walls of Storm’s End, and that but faintly.
    A rippling wake spread out behind as they swung back toward the shore. “You
speak of men and onions,” Davos said to Melisandre. “What of women? Is it not
the same for them? Are you good or evil, my lady?”
    That made her chuckle. “Oh, good. I am a knight of sorts myself, sweet ser. A
champion of light and life.”
    â€œYet you mean to kill a man tonight,” he said. “As you killed Maester
Cressen.”
    â€œYour maester poisoned himself. He meant to poison me, but I was protected by
a greater power and he was not.”
    â€œAnd Renly Baratheon? Who was it who killed him?”
    Her head turned. Beneath the shadow of the cowl, her eyes burned like pale red
candle flames. “Not I.”
    â€œLiar.” Davos was certain now.
    Melisandre laughed again. “You are lost in darkness and confusion, Ser
Davos.”
    â€œAnd a good thing.” Davos gestured at the distant lights flickering along the
walls of Storm’s End. “Feel how cold the wind is? The guards will huddle close
to those torches. A little warmth, a little light, they’re a comfort on a night
like this.

Yet that will blind them, so they will not see us pass.”
I hope.
“The god of darkness protects us now, my lady. Even you.”
    The flames of her eyes seemed to burn a little brighter at that. “Speak not
that name, ser. Lest you draw his black eye upon us. He protects no man, I
promise you. He is the enemy of all that lives. It is the torches that hide us,
you have said so yourself. Fire. The bright gift of the Lord of
Light.”
    â€œHave it your way.”
    â€œHis way, rather.”
    The wind was shifting, Davos could feel it, see it in the way the black canvas
rippled. He reached for the halyards. “Help me bring in the sail. I’ll row us
the rest of the way.”
    Together they tied off the sail as the boat rocked beneath them. As Davos
unshipped the oars and slid them into the choppy black water, he said, “Who
rowed you to Renly?”
    â€œThere was no need,” she said. “He was unprotected. But
here . . . this Storm’s End is an old place. There are spells
woven into the stones. Dark walls that no shadow can pass—ancient,
forgotten, yet still in place.”
    â€œShadow?” Davos felt his flesh prickling. “A shadow is a thing of
darkness.”
    â€œYou are more ignorant than a child, ser knight. There are no shadows in the
dark. Shadows are the
servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest
flame casts the darkest shadows.”
    Frowning, Davos hushed her then. They were coming close to shore once more, and
voices carried across the water. He rowed,

the faint sound of his oars lost in the rhythm of the waves. The seaward side
of Storm’s End perched upon a pale white cliff, the chalky stone sloping up
steeply to half again the height of the massive curtain wall. A mouth yawned in
the cliff, and it was that Davos steered for, as he