Chapter 55 - Beneath the Stags

By the time Arthur opened his shutters, Jon had given up trying to sleep.

Below his window, a kitchen boy struggled across the court with an enormous basket. Jon watched him reach the door, then pulled on his boots. The men on Dragonstone had waited long enough.

Jon offered Hugin a scrap of cold meat. Munin came down from the bedpost at once. The other three crows watched from their baskets.

Aries came in with his practice clothes over one arm and bread in his mouth. "Ser Arthur says we have time for the yard."

"Has he eaten?"

The boy swallowed. "He says he has."

Through the connecting doorway, Jon saw untouched bread beside Arthur's cup. His uncle stood fingering a sword belt passed through the wrong loop.

"Uncle?"

Arthur looked up, hollow-eyed and unshaven. His gaze rested on Jon's eyes before he pulled the strap free.

"Did you sleep?" Jon asked.

"A little." He cleared his throat, but added nothing.

A second cup stood upon the table. Jon sent Aries for the practice gloves and waited until he had gone.

"Who was here?"

"Jaime. Barristan came before dawn."

Wax had pooled beside Arthur's unfinished letter. His belt hung loose again.

"Did you speak about Aerys?"

Arthur rested his hands upon the table. "Yes. He meant to burn the city. Jaime killed him to stop it."

Jon drew out a chair. He remembered Jaime's confession in the books. He had left the hidden wildfire among dangers to deal with when he came south. People were still living above it.

"The wildfire," Arthur said. "There may still be stores of it."

"Is that why you sent for Barristan?"

"Jaime brought him. I told Barristan I believed him. He will speak to the Hand." Arthur glanced at the sheet. "Jaime is writing down the locations. They will open the stores with the guild's men."

"And until then?"

"Find the places and question anyone who knows them. Watch each store we identify. No one touches the jars without the alchemists."

"Ask Barristan to write to us. I want to know what they find, and whether the people above it are safe."

Arthur nodded, his shoulders easing. Then he looked at the empty chair.

"I ought to have heard him years ago."

"You need not tell me everything this morning." Jon moved the bread towards Arthur. "We have time to sit a little."

Aries called that he had found the gloves. Arthur fastened his belt and rested a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"I would like to give you your lesson." His voice had steadied.

"All right. Eat first."

Arthur looked at the plate. "Am I your ward now?"

"Until you finish your breakfast."

Arthur smiled reluctantly and took the bread. When Aries returned, he helped him fasten a strap.

Jon called Tomas. Six of the household would accompany them; Gawen would remain with the others. Two guards went ahead, the rest following Jon and Aries.

Arthur led them through a covered walk overlooking the Great Hall. A man carried old rushes through its open door.

Jon stopped. "May we look inside?"

"The king will not be there yet."

"I know."

The guards admitted them when Jon gave his name. Tomas left two men at the entrance and followed.

Far above the empty floor, the Iron Throne caught a thin bar of light.

Swords rose behind the seat in a blackened thicket. Blades waited beside the narrow steps if a man stumbled. Jon could distinguish a crossguard among the melted weapons. Living men had carried these.

"Can the king see everyone from there?" Aries asked.

"Everyone who comes before him," Arthur said.

Jon remembered offices where power wore an ordinary suit and pretended the desk was only furniture. Aegon had dispensed with the pretence. A man approached that chair from a very long way below it.

He wanted to climb those steps, and scarcely from curiosity. He pictured his hand upon the armrest—and Tomas drawing his sword against the guards. Jon stayed where he was.

Arthur had watched him throughout. "They kept the dragons' skulls along the walls."

Jon turned towards the hunting tapestries. "Where are they now?"

"Below. Robert had them taken down."

"I should like to see them."

"I will ask who keeps the keys."

A guarded door behind the throne let the king avoid his petitioners. Maegor had left other ways through these walls. Jon remembered Varys in darkness, a child with a candle, voices from supposedly private rooms. He remembered no useful turns.

He waited until Aries had gone ahead with Arthur, then spoke to Tomas.

"While we practise, look at the room behind mine. And find out what lies above it."

"Something wrong with the chamber?"

"I don't know yet. I would rather know who can reach it."

Tomas nodded. Jon would lock his papers away. Guards outside offered little protection against a man inside the wall.

At the entrance Arthur stopped to ask the guard about the skulls. A soft voice greeted them from the covered walk.

"Lord Black. I had hoped you might sleep longer after your voyage."

The bald man beside the clerk wore loose lavender silk, his cheeks pale with powder. A floral scent overcame the mustiness of the rushes.

"Lord Varys," Arthur said.

"Ser Arthur. How pleasant to see you again." Varys dismissed the clerk. "Runestone kept you busy. Lord Yohn, your nephew, then Ser Lyn demanding sharp steel. Did no one let you sit down?"

"I found time."

"And still remembered to send men recruiting among the hedge knights."

"My household needs good riders," Jon said.

Varys glanced at the practice gloves beneath Aries's arm. "More swordplay? I ought to warn the kitchens that Ser Arthur may be late for his dinner."

Aries grinned. The victories were common talk; Jon had hoped fewer people noticed the recruiting.

"My uncle has promised me a lesson."

"A promise many men would envy." Varys folded his hands. "I trust your household is comfortably lodged? Fifty men can try a steward's patience, however welcome their lord."

"They have room. Some remain aboard."

Varys acknowledged Tomas as he drew level. "Your other ships must have been more crowded, with the craftsmen's families aboard."

"They have reached Dragonstone."

"So I hear. Lord Arryn will be pleased. He has had enquiries about so many new households reaching your island."

The departures had been public. Why did Varys wish to display his knowledge?

"I shall see the Hand this morning."

"Of course. Should you require anything while you are here, pray send word."

Jon thanked him. Once they were beyond hearing, he glanced at Arthur. "Was he as helpful to Aerys?"

"He always had some fresh warning. His Grace rarely heard one without finding another man to distrust."

"Were the warnings true?"

"Some." Arthur lowered his voice as a servant passed. "I sometimes wished he had been as diligent in telling the king when his fears were groundless."

Rylas went ahead into the godswood. Jon touched the oak, thinking of Bloodraven, who had found him in dreams far from any heart tree.

"No face," Aries said. "Do the old gods hear you here?"

Jon looked up at a bird searching beneath the bark. He felt nothing from it. "I don't know."

Jon had promised to tell Arthur what the dreams demanded. Much remained unclear to them both.

"Rhaegar walked here when he wanted quiet," Arthur said.

"Alone?"

"When he could persuade us to remain by the door."

Tomas watched the door. Jon tried to imagine his father beneath this tree, with no harp, no armour, no need to speak.

A shout reached them from the yard. Aries turned eagerly towards it.

"Come," Jon said. "We are keeping you from the swords."

Arthur led them out.

In the practice yard, a slender boy with brown curls drove his opponent backwards. Two Tyrell guards watched while a squire in plum wool shouted advice.

In the middle of the yard, a sandy-bearded knight in a spotted-leopard surcoat saw Arthur and stopped. "Ser Arthur."

The silence spread. Men who would have stopped for Jon at home looked over his head. The Tyrell squire nearly took a blow while staring at Dawn.

"Ser Aron," Arthur said. "Might we use a little of your ground?"

"As much as you wish." Santagar, the master-at-arms, turned to Jon. "And Lord Black. Welcome."

Arthur chose his ground. Tomas stationed the guards, left Rylas beside Jon's sword belt and went to find the steward.

"The rest of you have not finished," Santagar called. "Find your partners."

Arthur examined the practice sword Aries handed him. "The ground is firmer than at Runestone. Try your feet first."

Jon advanced and retreated, feeling where the earth had been scuffed loose, then raised his sword.

Jon caught Arthur's first cut, slipped the second and thrust at the exposed wrist. His uncle's blade returned across it. Steel struck close to Jon's knuckles; he escaped before Arthur could trap his sword, but took a touch to the ribs.

"You turned the point away," Arthur said. "You had not taken the rest of the blade out of my reach."

"I thought I could get to your wrist."

"You almost did. That is why I gave it to you."

They repeated it slowly. Jon's speed won him openings, but reaching too soon put him within a stronger man's grip.

"Make me turn before you come in."

Jon ignored the wrist, cut high and moved as Arthur's blade rose. His second cut came low. Arthur stopped it, but Jon escaped the reply.

"Again."

His uncle came faster. Jon gave ground, then broke sideways. Their blades met; he followed the easing pressure, turning his wrist. His point caught the leather at Arthur's side.

"Better. You made me move."

Arthur touched his chest in the next exchange. Jon swore, earned a raised eyebrow, and tried again until he was breathing hard.

Aries brought water when they stopped.

"He'll have you at that until supper. I was a year older when I discovered I could ask for a drink." The voice came from behind Jon's shoulder.

Arthur smiled, then glanced at the watching men before lowering his sword.

Jaime Lannister came past the racks in his white cloak, helm under one arm. Rylas moved nearer, then held his place.

"You found us." Arthur offered the water. "Good morning, Jaime."

Jaime looked at his old teacher before taking the cup. "So this is the nephew."

"Jon Black, ser."

"So I am told. Jaime Lannister." He set down his helm and chose a practice blade. "Have you time for a few passes?"

Jon tested his grip. "If my uncle permits."

Arthur stepped back. "Keep the lesson in mind."

Jaime left the same wrist exposed. Jon feinted high and cut for the other side. Jaime met him hard. Jon slid clear before the knight could bear his sword down.

"Better," Arthur said.

"I had hoped you meant me." Jaime attacked again.

Jon turned two blows and ducked the third. The next came as he straightened. Jaime's weight drove his defending blade aside; the tip struck below his collarbone.

"Again," Jon said.

Jaime offered the same opening. Jon retreated, then slipped outside the sword's line as the knight followed. His point flashed towards the wrist.

Jaime parried and stepped back. Jon followed, saw his expression sharpen, then met a reply too fast to answer. He escaped the first cut; the second struck his side.

Arthur called an end. Jon lowered his sword, breathing through his mouth.

Jaime rolled his wrist. "You did say twelve?"

"Twelve."

Santagar looked at the men watching. "You may watch when you can move as quickly. Back to it."

Jaime had beaten him twice, but Jon had made him abandon the second trap.

"I was not that quick at his age," Jaime said, returning the sword.

"You were harder to persuade to stop."

Jaime laughed. Arthur's answering smile was brief. Near the racks, the boy in plum wool tried Jaime's last turn.

"You are stepping on your own foot, Andren," the Tyrell squire told him.

"I know which foot it is."

Jaime retrieved his helm and spoke quietly to Arthur. His uncle listened and nodded; then Jaime left for the hall.

A young knight with seven stars at his throat approached Jon. "Eustace Sunglass, my lord. Lord Guncer is my cousin."

Sweetport Sound. Ethan had received their oaths for Jon. He offered his hand. "I hope to see you on Dragonstone."

"I should like that." Eustace glanced towards Arthur. "Would your uncle have time for a few passes?"

Arthur beckoned him over. Eustace attacked with a thrust becoming a cut, but Arthur caught his blade and touched his shoulder. His cautious second attempt failed sooner.

"You knew what you wanted the first time," Arthur said. "Do not abandon it because I knew too."

A knight in a red-tree surcoat tightened his gloves. "Ser Lucan Marbrand," Santagar told Jon. "New to his spurs. Not to a sword."

Marbrand made Arthur turn twice before his uncle caught his blade and slipped beneath the guard. The knight looked down at the point and laughed ruefully.

Beside Jon, someone said, "I have been trying to beat him all week."

The Tyrell boy had come over. Santagar named him: Loras Tyrell, Lord Mace's youngest son, squire to the king's brother.

"Andren Plumm says Marbrand leaves his left side open," Loras continued. "He neglects to say what happens when you try to reach it."

"You could ask my uncle."

"I mean to." Loras looked him over. "You beat Waymar Royce."

"Yes."

"He beat me last time we met." The boy lifted his sword. "Have you another bout in you?"

Santagar pointed to the ground beside the posts. "One. The Hand does not wait upon my yard."

Loras came in fast, blade flicking towards Jon's face before dropping towards his thigh. Jon caught the lower cut and dodged his free hand. Loras followed. Andren stopped smiling.

Jon let the next blow drive his sword down. Loras stepped after it. Jon turned with the pressure, shoulder sliding past shoulder, and touched the padding beneath Loras's arm.

"Touch," Santagar called.

Loras looked at the mark. "I thought I had your sword."

"You did. You brought it round for me."

The boy tested the movement with his empty hand. "Again?"

"When Lord Arryn has finished with him," Santagar said.

Loras offered Jon his hand. "I shall remember that."

"So shall I." Jon's wrist still ached. There had been little wasted in Loras's attacks. What would another two years make of him?

His bruise throbbed as they left to change. Ned's letter waited in his chamber; the Hand would want it soon.

* * *

Tomas reported spare bedding behind Jon's chamber and empty rooms above. The steward had opened them. Their stair began beyond Arthur's door.

"I cannot tell you what is inside the walls, my lord."

"Post a man where he can see that stair and our door. Do not hinder the servants." Jon went in to wash.

The Hand's servant brought pears and a summons before the audience. Jon told Aries to leave fruit for Gawen and stay with Tomas.

Arthur stood beside the open chest with Dawn in his hand.

"Dawn," he said.

"They know you carry it," Jon said.

"They know I once carried it in another king's service."

"Wear it," Jon said. "Robert pardoned you. Let him see the man he pardoned."

Arthur buckled on the sword. A little of the stiffness went out of his shoulders.

Arryn had kept the kingdom together for years. Jon wanted to hear what the Hand expected of him.

He took his father's letter and went with Arthur to the Tower of the Hand.

A guardsman admitted them to a room already at work. A clerk stood before Arryn with two letters open.

"Bracken says the pasture is his, my lord. Blackwood says otherwise."

Arryn rubbed his nose. "Send copies to Lord Hoster. Ask where the cattle were taken. Neither house is to cross the disputed ground under arms until he rules."

The clerk left. Arryn rose to greet Arthur, still broad-shouldered despite his hollow cheeks.

"Barristan came early. The guild will be questioned privately. He has the men he asked for." Arryn drew out a chair. "Sit, both of you."

Jon gave him Ned's letter. At the sight of the seal, the severity about Arryn's mouth eased.

"He might have come with you."

"He wanted to see the harvest brought in."

"There is always a harvest, or a bridge, or a bannerman whose sons require separating." Arryn broke the seal and read by the window.

"Yohn wrote of Runestone. Both of Ned's sons in the final. Your father will have been pleased."

"Robb will tell him every blow when he reaches home."

The clerk brought bread and cold trout. Arryn waited until they were alone before offering the dish.

"Before I sail," Jon said, "what do you expect of me on Dragonstone? My father still has the keeping of it. But I mean to govern when I arrive."

"I hear you have sent six hundred men ahead of you."

"Six hundred foot. Ethan already has five hundred in the garrison. My household travels with me."

"What service do you intend for them?"

"Defending my people and trade. Ethan can hold the castle. I want a force to meet trouble beyond the walls."

"Consider your bannermen too. Several served the Targaryens for generations. A new king's seal does not make a man forget whom his father served."

"Nor where his brothers died," Arthur said.

"No. Some will be pleased to receive you, Ser Arthur. They may be rather less pleased by the lord you serve."

Jon rested his cup upon his knee. "I do not expect my uncle's name to settle every disagreement."

"It may encourage them to conceal one. They can honour him at supper and refuse you the next morning."

"They need not like me to honour their oaths."

"He can delay a ship or dispute a summons." Arryn looked between them. "Robert honoured Ned with that grant. He also wanted those houses answering to someone Ned had raised."

"Someone to keep the old king's men obedient."

"Yes. He expected Ned's influence to weigh more heavily upon you than theirs."

"And now I arrive with Ser Arthur Dayne beside me."

Arryn turned to Arthur. "Some will expect sympathy for their old loyalties. Others will wonder why you serve the lord Robert chose to curb them."

"They may ask me," Arthur said quietly.

"They will be more careful than that."

Arryn loved Ned, but that did not make him Jon's ally. He expected Ned's son to strengthen Robert's rule. Jon meant to take the throne.

"And if one of them refuses you?" Arryn asked.

"I shall hear him with Ethan beside me. If he has lost a ship or cannot spare men, we can discuss what he can provide. I want the service he owes."

"You are twelve. His Grace has given you a lordship, and Ned holds it for you until your majority. A quarrel with one of those houses will reach him as well."

"I know the terms. Ethan remains castellan. I shall not pledge the island or bind my father to agreements without his knowledge. But my bannermen will answer to me. They cannot send excuses north where I cannot challenge them."

"Then send Ned your account. Let him hear it before you collect the service by force. You may have every right to it and still make a costly enemy."

"And he may hope to keep me waiting while my men eat through their stores."

"He may."

"I will send an account. I will not suspend every order while a bannerman seeks another answer from Winterfell." Jon held his gaze. "My ships and men will begin the work."

Arthur nodded. "Ethan knows which men have answered readily. We shall hear from him before summoning the others."

"And if a dispute reaches the Crown," Arryn said, "I will expect your account as well as theirs."

"You shall have it." Jon drew his plate nearer. "I need those lords to trade with me. I have no intention of making enemies of the whole bay."

"Then give them reason to visit your harbour." Arryn passed the bread. "Robert has read Ned's account of the wildlings. He will want yours. If he speaks too freely, remember he is fond of Ned."

As they rose, Arryn put a hand on his shoulder. "It is a pleasure to meet the boy Ned named for me."

"He speaks of you often."

Jon would remember his kindness, and what he expected in return.

By the time they reached the stair, the Hand was dictating again.

Jon stopped beside a window. Tomas took Aries ahead, beyond hearing.

"I will not let my father or the Crown govern Dragonstone through me," Jon said. "I mean to rule as the other lords do."

Arthur rested a hand upon the sill. "Have you told Ned that?"

"He knows why I am going. The harbour needs enlarging, ships building, land ploughing. I will not keep everyone idle while ravens carry each decision north."

"And if Ned objects?"

"I shall consider his advice. He knows a great deal about governing. But the decisions will be mine."

"Arryn will expect you to remember this morning."

"If he wants those houses obedient, he must let me govern them. The Crown will have its due."

Arthur considered him, then nodded. "If Ned asks me to restrain you, I shall bring the matter to you. He will have your answer."

"That is what I ask."

Arthur fell into step beside Jon as they rejoined the household.

* * *

Petitioners crowded the Great Hall with rolled parchments and waiting pages. Tomas drew Aries clear of an opening door. Jon followed Arthur towards the carpet. A spur fell silent when the king spoke.

Robert sat among the jagged blades, crowned in gold, one hand open upon a sharp iron armrest.

An usher kept a merchant woman waiting with her creased petition while a party in blue and yellow passed with an unexamined warrant.

"Lefford," Arthur said quietly. "Lord Leo, of the Golden Tooth. One of Lord Tywin's bannermen."

The usher greeted Lefford's tall squire as Gerren. Beside the merchant woman, a lady in russet waited with her steward. The usher bowed, but barred her way.

"Lady Meredyth Wendwater," Arthur murmured. "A widow. She holds the lands until her son comes of age."

Arthur named Tanda Stokeworth and her daughters, Rykker of Duskendale, Lord Ralph Buckler and his cousin Ser Brus. William Mooton started towards Arthur, then stopped at his wife's touch.

Myles Mooton, Rhaegar's squire, had been killed by Robert at Stoney Sept. His brother had come to do business beneath the victor's throne.

"Then mend the bloody road." Robert's bark carried to the doors. His clerk paused.

Someone murmured that Ser Harys Harte had argued his cousin's cause all morning.

"Lord Harte has repaired his portion," Ser Harys said. "The ditch is Rosby's. Our carts have stood there three days."

Gyles Rosby lowered his cloth. Those nearest leaned closer to hear.

"The ditch carries water from their fields. They have blocked the culvert to spare themselves the cost of clearing it."

A white-bearded Stormlander called that Bronzegate's carts were in the same mire.

"Then send Buckler to pull them out, Hugh. He is broad enough."

Grandison and Ralph laughed. Rosby tried again to be heard.

Near the dais, Renly turned at his brother's laughter, broad-shouldered in green velvet. Loras stood behind him with his gloves and nodded to Jon.

Petyr Baelish stood beside Renly in plum velvet. Jon's fingers closed around his cuff. He had pictured that man with Ned's blood on his hands. Baelish was smiling.

Stannis listened beside a pillar, his jaw edged with a short beard. An onion-badged page held his papers; a knight beside him wore three death's-head moths.

Arthur returned Stannis's curt nod. "Ser Richard Horpe beside him."

Lysa Arryn drew her son closer. Her eyes lifted towards Petyr, then followed her husband to the throne.

Tyrion Lannister laughed up at a taller kinsman. With his nose whole, he looked much younger than the man Jon remembered reading about.

"Ser Tygett," Arthur said. "Lord Tywin's brother."

Tygett's grin faded at the sight of Arthur. They exchanged nods. A small golden-haired boy pressed close to his side.

"His wife, Lady Darlessa Marbrand." She rescued the cloak slipping from her boy's hands.

Ser Ilyn Payne waited at the next pillar with a greatsword. It was not Ice. Ned was alive in Winterfell. Jon released his cuff.

"Jon," Robert called.

Both Jon and the Hand looked up.

The king laughed at that. "The little one. Though he has done his best to spoil the name. Come here, boy."

Arryn drew Ser Harys aside as faces turned along the carpet.

"Stark's son?" someone asked.

"The clockmaker," came the reply.

Gerren questioned Lucan Marbrand, now out of his practice coat. The answer made him frown.

"The clocks pay for the men," a woman said behind Jon. "That is what I should like to know about."

Courtiers made room. A man bowed to Arthur, then remembered Jon. Rykker asked whether all fifty riders had come south.

Cersei sat below the throne in green and gold, with Jaime's fine bones and a courteous expression. She beckoned Jocelyn closer and murmured to her.

Ser Meryn Trant opened the way, a golden lion fastening the white cloak at his shoulder.

Joffrey sat straight-backed, one hand upon his sword. A sandy-haired squire held his cup. Jaime waited beyond the royal chairs; Pycelle leaned upon his staff.

Arthur bowed to the king; Jaime nodded to him. Jon went down upon one knee.

"Your Grace."

"Up. Let me look at you."

Robert leaned forward, blue eyes bright. Gold thread strained across his belly, but his chest and shoulders were enormous.

Jon rose, knowing how quickly the welcome would die if Robert learned whose son stood below him.

"Gods, Ned kept you north long enough. I asked for a child, and he has sent me a soldier."

"I hope to be of more use than when you first asked."

"You will have to tell me how you left the Vale boys flat upon their backs. Ned writes as if he were afraid to boast."

"Robb would have supplied the parts he left out."

Robert laughed, and Jon found himself smiling. It was a full, heedless laugh. For an instant he understood why men had followed its owner into danger.

"Two sons in the final! Jon, did Ned ever win anything without making us drag the story out of him?"

"He generally preferred you to finish telling it," the Hand said.

"He was ungrateful. I always improved it." Robert studied Jon again. "Not much of Ned in the face. Dayne eyes, though. I remember those."

"My mother's family, Your Grace."

"And her brother's sword." Robert's smile faded as he looked at Arthur. "Ser Arthur."

"Your Grace."

"Ned tells me you have kept the boy well guarded."

"He is my sister's son, Your Grace."

"So you told me when you asked to go north." Robert's eyes dropped to Dawn. "Ned has had no cause to regret it, then."

"None that he has given me." Arthur kept his hands at his sides.

Robert turned back to Jon. "Was Robb close to beating you?"

"He had the strength of me. I kept him turning."

Robert made him describe the finish, interrupting twice to ask where Robb's shield had been. "And the Greyjoy took your archery. What were the Vale boys doing?"

"Robar Royce won the melee," the Hand reminded him.

"You should have been there, Bryce," the king told the young lord with nightingales upon his breast. "Perhaps the south would have won something."

"Corbray took the joust, Your Grace."

"Another Valeman. You are making it worse."

Caron bowed amid the laughter. Grandison slapped his arm. Gerren's mouth tightened at Lucan's remark.

"You should have brought your brother," Robert said.

"His ship was bound for White Harbor. Our father expects him home."

"Your father expects everyone home. He ought to have married a woman who disliked children."

Cersei's fingers moved on the arm of her chair.

"Lord Stark is careful of his heir," she said. "That is hardly a fault."

Robert turned sharply. The flush above his beard deepened. "I said nothing of faults."

"Then Lord Black will understand that his brother's place is with his family."

The queen's faint smile was for Jon. She meant to put him outside the family.

"Robb understands his duty," Jon said. "We parted knowing we both had work to do."

"Indeed. You are going to take possession of Dragonstone."

"I am going to govern it, Your Grace."

She glanced towards Arryn. "Lord Stark still holds the castle in his keeping?"

"As His Grace's grant directs," the Hand said.

"Of course." Cersei turned back to Jon. "Who will receive your new soldiers?"

"My castellan and my officers."

"Your father's castellan."

"My castellan, under my father's charge," Jon said. "He has been informed of every ship we sent."

Robert shifted on the throne. A spur scraped iron.

"He is filling an empty castle, Cersei. You have spent twelve years telling me what a poor gift I made him."

"I have said that Dragonstone was the seat of the king's heir."

Rykker's conversation stopped. Lefford watched Robert. Joffrey straightened in his chair.

"It was the seat of dragonspawn," Robert growled. His thick fingers curled over the iron armrest. "I put an end to their rule. Ned's son holds it now."

Mooton lowered his eyes. Arthur stood still. Jon remembered two small bodies beneath a cloak, and Robert finding their name sufficient answer.

"And your son is a prince of your house," Cersei said. "The castle guards your capital. Joffrey has an interest in its keeping."

"Then he may ask about it," Robert said.

Joffrey looked from his mother to the floor below the throne. "How many ships do you have?"

"Ten warships and six merchantmen, my prince."

"My father has the royal fleet."

"Yes."

"You would have to give him yours if he commanded it."

Osric had told Jon of Joffrey demanding obedience from a bell, and a trembling hearth boy. The years had improved his clothes.

"My obligations to the Crown are recorded," Jon said. "They will be honoured."

"A lord should know them without being reminded," Cersei said.

"I do, Your Grace."

"And the king should know the strength of that castle. Lord Arryn, I trust an account will be furnished when these men are settled."

"Lord Stark can furnish it," Arryn answered. "The account will come through him, as Dragonstone's affairs have done since the grant."

"The grant settled the matter," Stannis said.

He had not raised his voice. Cersei turned towards him nonetheless.

"Captains, warships fit to sail, men under arms. Surely the master of ships wishes to know who commands at the mouth of the bay."

Stannis's jaw tightened. "I know who commands there. So does Lord Stark." He kept his eyes upon the queen.

Robert grunted approvingly. Stannis had scarcely looked at Jon.

The queen turned from Stannis to Robert. "Then let the Hand have their names and their strength after Lord Black reaches his island."

"Have Ethan send it through Ned," Robert told Jon. He motioned to the clerk beside the throne, who bent over his parchment.

Jon watched the queen. "The Hand will have the account through my father. The choice of captains and command of my men remain mine."

"I did not give you Dragonstone to have Targaryen loyalists turn your head," Robert said. "Their ships come when I call, and no man raises a dragon banner in my bay."

He glanced at Arthur. "I trust Ned's sons to keep faith. See that your bannermen remember their oaths."

"They will answer to me, Your Grace. I shall see that they give the service they owe."

"Good. You have men enough for it. How old are those soldiers of yours?"

After Jon answered, Robert asked about armour and drills. Jon named Hewyn and described keeping men in place after a charge.

"Most lads can be taught to run at an enemy," Robert said. "It is getting them to stop that ruins your voice. Have you taught yours that?"

"We punish men who leave the line for a kill."

"Even if they get it?"

"Especially then. The next fool thinks he can do the same."

Robert's hand struck his knee. "There speaks someone who has had to fetch them back."

Jon felt an unwelcome pleasure. Careless as Robert could be with a kingdom, he understood young soldiers faced with a fleeing enemy.

"You would have saved me three horses at Ashford," Lord Grandison said.

"You lost two," Robert called down.

"Two beneath me, Your Grace. The third was being ridden by the fool I went back for."

The Stormlanders laughed. Robert pointed at him, remembering, and the old lord's beard shook with more than courtly amusement.

"And then you teach them their letters." Cersei spoke through the laughter. "How generous. Do they all expect to become gentlemen in your service?"

Lefford's squire grinned. His uncle did not, though he made no move to check the boy.

"They can read their orders and tell whether they have been paid correctly, Your Grace." Jon kept his voice level.

Robert turned to ask when Ned meant to visit, but Pycelle came forward before the Hand could answer.

Gold chains covered red velvet and ermine. After Luwin's plain wool, Pycelle looked dressed for a different profession.

"Maester Luwin writes highly of your industry," Pycelle said. "These teachers of yours were once acolytes, I understand?"

"Some of them."

"A pity their studies were left unfinished."

"They are continuing their studies in my service."

"Naturally. Should you require counsel upon suitable books, you need only ask."

Pycelle had urged Aerys to admit Tywin's army. Jon trusted him no more for offering books.

"I should value any accounts of Dragonstone's harbour and surrounding waters," he said. "Older works as well, if you have them."

"I shall have my attendants inquire," Pycelle said.

"My thanks."

"Find him one about battles, Pycelle. Then I might borrow it." Robert rose, setting the courtiers in motion. "We will hunt after we have eaten. Come with us, Jon. Dayne may attend you. Caron, Buckler—let us see which of you can stay upon a horse."

"Your Grace," Arthur said.

Barristan moved to meet the king on the iron stair. Robert waved him aside.

At the bottom he put a hand on Jon's shoulder, heavier than Arryn's had been.

"You have his look when you mean to argue. Ned's, I mean. Your mouth gives you away."

"I shall try to remember that."

"Don't. It would spoil it." He looked to his brother. "Renly, find the boy a decent place at supper. I want to hear what else Ned has been keeping from me."

Renly bowed with a smile that seemed to cost him nothing. "If you will let him reach the table, brother."

"Stannis?" Robert asked.

"The galley captains are waiting."

"They will still be waiting when we return."

"They have been waiting since yesterday." Behind Stannis, the page looked down at his papers.

Robert's smile thinned. "Then by all means preserve them from another afternoon."

Stannis left with Horpe and his page. Three Stormland knights hesitated, then followed him. Caron called for his riding cloak.

Robert made for the doors. Jalabhar Xho bowed in his feathered cape. "Your Grace, concerning the ships—"

"Next year, Xho." Robert clapped him upon the shoulder without stopping. Behind the prince, the merchant woman raised her petition, then lowered it as the king passed.

Trant admitted Lefford's squire with a warrant, then barred Ser Harys. Cersei gave it to her steward. "Take this to Lord Baelish. I would have Lord Lefford paid today." Gerren followed him out. Harys remained waiting.

Cersei beckoned Jocelyn, who glanced towards Jon before inclining her head.

Rykker caught Arryn's clerk before he could follow Robert. Brus joined them, and Rosby came coughing into his cloth.

Brus watched the queen's steward lead Gerren away. "Lefford has his answer, at least."

"The Crown owes him the money," Lucan Marbrand said as he passed.

"And our carriers want paying while their carts stand idle. Tell him to ask about the road as well." Brus turned back to Arryn's clerk.

Lysa intercepted Arryn, their son pulling at his chain. When the Hand beckoned Jon closer, her smile arrived late.

"How is Catelyn?" she asked, her eyes resting briefly on Arthur.

"Well, my lady. I left her with all the children about her."

"Robert, greet Lord Black." She smoothed her son's hair, though he tried to turn away.

The boy hid against her skirt. Arryn thanked Jon for Ned's letter, sparing him further urging. As Jon left, Lysa asked whether Petyr would join them at supper.

In the yard, Tommen ran to meet his mother. His attendant caught him as he stumbled. Cersei straightened his clothes, listening to something he urgently needed to tell her.

Myrcella waited with their septa. When Jon bowed, she smoothed a ribbon which was already straight.

"Did you truly win?" she asked.

"The squires' melee, Princess. Yes."

"Against your brother too?"

"He made me work for it."

She looked up then, studying his face with open interest. "Were you hurt?"

"A few bruises."

"Oh." Her brow creased. "I hope they are better."

"Much better. Thank you."

She smiled. Joffrey turned, and Myrcella drew herself up as though they had been discussing something important.

"Myrcella," Cersei said.

Myrcella hurried away, glancing back. Jon smiled. Sansa had shown the same concern for a handsome knight's bandaged hand.

Cersei watched him, then took Tommen over the bridge. The guards closed behind them.

Beyond the spikes rose the windows where Elia had tried to protect her children. Watching Cersei take Tommen's hand, Jon thought of another mother who had trusted those walls.

Arthur touched Jon's elbow. "Come."

He had been looking at the same windows.

* * *

Over bread and cold meat, Gawen protested at being left behind. Arthur asked how he would control a frightened horse if his injured arm failed. Aries would stay with him; Tomas and Rylas would ride.

At the stable door the sandy-haired squire from the dais was testing a wineskin's stopper. "Lancel," Tygett called. "The buckle first. You will have that under your feet."

Tygett's son Tyrek held Robert's spare gloves. Jon remembered stronger wine and a boar, but Lancel was still only a boy fastening a strap.

"They give us cups," Tyrek complained. "Gerren is allowed a sword."

"He is seven years older," Tygett said. "Keep those gloves out of the mud before you ask me for a lance."

Lancel hid a grin. A groom moved Jon's saddlebag for the king's wine. The queen's kin served Robert everywhere.

Bucephalus waited beneath the arch. Arthur checked his reins and greeted Barristan, already armoured for the hunt.

"You needn't ride, if you would rather stay," Jon said.

"I have spent enough of this visit looking backwards." Arthur tightened the fastening beneath his horse's throat. "Show me what the king means to kill."

Robert meant to kill everything. He told them so while a squire found his glove. In brown leather, without his crown, he seemed less burdened. A grizzled hound lurched against him; he shook its head affectionately.

"He can smell the meat in your pocket," Renly said.

"And you can smell a free supper halfway across the keep." Robert accepted the glove and mounted.

Caron and Balon Swann rode together. Buckler brought Brus and two knights; Lucan and Andren joined Tygett. Loras waited upon Renly.

Lefford's squire drew level, hair combed above his divided eyebrow. "Gerren Lefford, my lord. Lord Leo's nephew. I hoped to meet you in the yard."

"You were not there this morning."

"My uncle had business. Marbrand says you are fast."

"He saw me beaten twice."

"By Ser Jaime." Gerren glanced towards Arthur. "Some men are given better opponents than others."

Gerren's smile stiffened. "I would welcome a turn. My uncle hopes to place me in the prince's household. They will ask Ser Aron about my swordwork."

"I will give you a turn. Ask Ser Aron for ground."

Gerren nodded as the king called for Lancel. Thoros hurried down the steps with his belt loose, claiming prayer had delayed him. Robert bade him pray for a faster horse. The priest laughed, then grinned at Arthur as though the years between them had been an interrupted meal.

Joffrey emerged on a chestnut palfrey with Sandor Clegane. He drew level with Robert and waited for his father to notice.

Robert disputed the changed wind with the master of hounds. "Deer have legs. So have we. Come, Black. Let us see what your uncle has taught you."

Jon urged Bucephalus forward. Beyond the gates, carts drew aside for the procession.

From the ferry, Jon saw washing strung between hillside houses beneath the Red Keep. Tomorrow he meant to walk there, if Robert let him.

Robert pointed upstream with his riding crop.

"Ned once fell into a river trying to keep his boots dry. Has he told you?"

"No, Your Grace."

"He wouldn't. Put one foot on a stone, decided it would hold him, and went in up to his neck. Jon Arryn laughed so hard he had to sit down."

"Did you cross safely?"

"I was already across. He had a face on him all evening."

Jon knew Ned trying to write with Bran hanging from his sleeve. He would have liked to see him dripping while his friends laughed.

"I shall ask him about it," Jon said.

"See that you do." Robert was still grinning. "And tell him I remember. He thinks going north made us forget every foolish thing he ever did."

Robert's old boars grew heavier whenever anyone challenged him; Tygett supplied their bearers' number. Caron claimed hunts had grown safer without Grandison's bow. Brus laughed until his horse shied.

Robert called to Lucan about his horse. The young knight urged it forward, but Caron kept the place beside the king.

"You are crowding the hounds, Marbrand."

"Then give me room to answer him."

"He did call for him, Caron," Tygett said. Caron drew back a length. Lucan thanked him with careful courtesy and passed.

Balon Swann drew alongside, wearing an ivory-and-onyx clasp. He asked after Jon's horse and escort, and waited for the answers.

The road dwindled beneath oak boughs. Sunlight broke across the riders; water shook from the hazel when a horse brushed it. Jon breathed damp leaves and warm leather, almost tasting the difference from the city air.

Bucephalus strained to pass the gelding ahead. Jon kept his hand low upon the reins. Tomas called Rylas closer; the escort had work enough without chasing deer.

The first cast failed. A huntsman found a fresh slot in the mud, then lost it beneath hoofprints. Robert dismounted to look. "You've ridden straight over it."

"I followed you, Your Grace."

"Then you should have stopped me." The man held his tongue. Before Robert could say more, the grizzled hound pushed beneath his arm, sniffed the earth and pulled towards thicker cover.

"There. That one remembers his trade." Robert rubbed its neck. "Give him room."

They found the hart among bracken tall enough to hide its body. It stood with one foreleg raised, then fled through the trees. The chase scattered them.

Bucephalus plunged after the king. Jon bent beneath a branch while Balon found a cleaner line. Behind him Joffrey shouted at Clegane. On the steep descent Jon checked his stallion. Rylas kept abreast; Tomas followed.

Robert took the slope without slowing. His gelding slid, recovered and carried him through a narrow gap, Barristan close behind. Brus came up on Jon's left, trying to take the same line.

"Low branch!" Tomas shouted.

Brus bent too late. The bough swept him backwards from the saddle, his boot caught in the stirrup. The horse dragged him over roots as he covered his face.

Jon hauled Bucephalus aside. "Rylas, the reins!"

Rylas caught the loose bridle near the bit and brought the gelding round against the bank. Brus swung beneath its belly. A hind hoof struck beside his head before Rylas forced the horse to stand.

Jon left his reins with Tomas and dismounted. He caught Brus beneath the arms, but the trapped foot twisted the knight back with a cry. Jon drew his knife, pulled the stirrup leather clear and cut. Brus fell against him.

"Keep the horses back," Jon told Tomas.

Renly halted the following riders. Jon helped Brus clear of the hooves. He lay bleeding and breathless until Arthur dismounted and Ralph came calling his cousin's name.

Brus answered with a curse and pushed himself upright, holding his shoulder.

"Stay there," Arthur said. "Let me see your arm."

Brus could close his fingers and move his elbow, though it hurt. Jon gave Ralph a cloth for the cut. Rylas held the trembling horse beside the severed stirrup.

"We have him," Arthur told Jon. "Go with Renly. Walk down the rest of that slope."

Jon wiped his knife on the leaves and remounted. Renly waited until Brus stood between Arthur and Ralph. Below them the hounds had begun to bay in one place.

They found the hart at a stream. Robert dismounted and took a spear. Hounds closed about the animal in the shallows; attendants called them back as he advanced.

Jon had shot deer from a steady rest in another life. Here the antlers could open a man from groin to throat. The hart tossed its head at a dog; Robert moved before the huntsman could pull the leash clear.

He stepped inside the sweep and drove the spear behind the shoulder. The animal struck against him. One boot slid upon the stones; he planted the other, bent his knees and bore down with both hands. The haft bowed. Jon saw the muscles stand out beneath the leather, the jaw clenched behind the beard. Then the hart's forelegs folded and Robert followed it down without letting go.

He waved the huntsmen back until it ceased struggling. When he straightened, one knee was soaked through and his chest heaved. His grin returned before his breath.

"Fine beast. Look at him, Black." He held out the spear. "Here. Feel that."

Jon took the heavy, bloody haft. The Demon of the Trident. He imagined that strength behind a warhammer, with younger lungs to sustain it. Rhaegar had faced that blow. Fat had slowed Robert; it had not made him harmless.

Across the stream Balon was telling Caron how close the antlers had come. Both looked towards Robert with a pleasure Jon understood.

"Your boot nearly went from under you," Jon said, returning the spear.

"Aye. Bloody stones." Robert rubbed his knee. "Your spearmen should practise on bad ground. Every lord gives you a level yard, then expects you to fight halfway up a hill." He glanced back. "Where's your uncle?"

"With Ser Brus. A branch took him out of the saddle. His boot caught in the stirrup."

"Is he badly hurt?"

"He was standing when we left. My uncle is seeing to his shoulder."

Robert beckoned a huntsman. "Take two men back. Bring him down carefully. If he cannot ride, send for a cart."

Joffrey arrived while the carcass was being opened. His cheeks were red, his cloak caught with burrs. He looked from the hart to Jon's bloody hands. "You let him kill it?"

"I killed it," Robert said.

"You said I could ride with you."

"Then you should have kept up."

Clegane dismounted. "The ground broke away. His horse couldn't take it."

"Get him a better horse."

"He has a horse he can sit."

Robert looked sharply at him. Sandor held the reins and waited.

"Next time," the king told Joffrey, turning away. "There will be other deer."

Joffrey kicked at a fern, staring at Jon's bloody hands. Jon went to rinse them. When the prince demanded water, Gerren took a cup from Lancel and brought it, bowing.

Brus arrived on a borrowed horse, his arm bound and brow bandaged. Robert heard Arthur's account and ordered a groom to lead him home. Brus protested, then tried to dismount and stopped.

They ate on a dry rise. Robert sent bread to an elderly huntsman, then found him cheese when he admitted he could no longer manage the crust. Servants unpacked another hamper for men whose bread lay untouched in saddlebags. The king's hunts fed a good many people.

Thoros disputed Robert's last leap. Balon sided with the king, Renly with the priest. Loras offered his own method; Andren pointed to the leaves beneath his collar. Asked for judgment, the old huntsman said the deer had jumped better than any of them. Robert roared and sent more cheese.

Jon smiled. Men who had stiffened at every movement of the queen's hand were talking with their mouths full. He waited for a gap. "Your Grace, I must ask leave to sail."

Robert looked up from his bread. "You have only just arrived."

"My people reached Dragonstone ahead of me. There are decisions waiting upon my arrival."

"You have a castellan. Let him earn his keep."

"He has earned it. I would like to see what I am asking him to do."

Robert wiped foam from his beard. "Stay tomorrow. You have scarcely seen the place. Ask me at supper, and I may let you go the morning after."

Jon bowed his head. Fondness for Ned did not prevent Robert keeping Ned's son here for his pleasure.

They returned at dusk. Aries had Mott's reply: the armourer could receive Jon in the morning. Jon ordered the chest readied and told Tomas they would be walking as well as riding. They would have their day in the city.

He washed and changed for supper. Arthur went to speak with Barristan; they met again upon the stair, still fastening their cuffs.

* * *

Outside the supper hall, Renly found Jon inspecting the king's clock.

The carved stag had acquired gilded antlers. A page peered through the pierced wooden side while his companion held his belt.

"The door opens," Jon told him.

The boys bowed and fled. Renly laughed. Loras stood beside him.

"Do you still make them?" the squire asked.

"My foreman makes them. I help when he needs me."

"Then you have time to practise."

"Loras has been accounting for your victory," Renly said. "Your height, your sword, your uncle."

The boy's ears reddened. "I said he was quick."

"Repeatedly. Ask him for another bout when I have fed him." Renly led them inside.

Heat and venison met Jon at the door. Cersei listened to Lefford. Across the hall, Ralph cut meat for the bandaged Brus while Caron asked about his fall.

Robert beckoned Jon with his cup. "Here. You have not met everyone."

Jon bowed, Arthur beside him, while Robert forgot whom he had intended to name.

"Stannis," Robert said at last. "You will have plenty to say to him. Ships and accounts. You can bore each other tomorrow."

Stannis glanced from Robert's spilling cup to Jon. Their resemblance was difficult to see.

"Your captains have reported to the harbourmaster?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. I shall speak with you before you sail."

"You see?" Robert said. "He has begun already."

"You introduced us."

Renly stifled a laugh. Stannis ignored him. "Your six hundred foot went ahead with the workmen. Have all the transports arrived?"

"All of them, my lord. Ethan's raven reached me at Gulltown. The heavy ironwork needed another tide to unload, but no one was hurt."

Stannis nodded. "Good. Bring what your captains know of the harbour when we speak."

"He shall," Robert said, reaching for the bread. The Hand offered Jon a faint smile.

"You have survived the hunt."

"Better than Ser Brus. Has the maester seen him?"

"Bound his shoulder and forbidden him to ride for a few days," Renly said. "He was fortunate you and your man stopped."

"He can have one of my carriages when he goes home," Robert said. "Ralph will never persuade him to stay off a horse otherwise."

"Lord Black's supper is waiting," Cersei said, dismissing Lefford. "Lady Tanda has made him very welcome."

"I asked him to sup with me." Robert tapped the table at his left. "Set him here. Lady Tanda may have him when I have finished."

The steward sent for a chair. Renly moved along. Jon remained beside Arthur. "A place for my uncle as well, Your Grace."

Robert nodded. Cersei sat without answering. Jon waited for both places, then sat beside the king. Joffrey watched the servants lay his trencher.

Robert gave Jon a generous helping of hart. He ate while the king disputed the chase with Caron and Renly asked Arthur about Runestone. For a little while he could enjoy his supper.

Robert wiped bread through the venison juices and turned to Jon.

"Your father ought to be here."

"He remained at Winterfell, Your Grace."

"The North would survive a few weeks without him." Robert shook his head. "I should have liked to hunt with him again."

"Ned would have told me I was too old to go tearing down that slope." Robert glanced along the table. "Wouldn't he, Jon?"

"He would have advised you to take the path," Arryn said.

"And come after me when I didn't." Robert's smile faded. "Gods, I miss him. I hear more of him from ravens than from his own mouth."

Jon pictured Ned enduring the king's arm, complaining afterwards and remembering every word. "I will tell him you missed him, Your Grace."

"Tell him to come. Bring Robb, bring the girls. There are rooms enough." Robert looked towards his son. "You should know Ned's boys, Joffrey. I was younger than Jon when I went to the Eyrie. Ned and I were together every day."

Joffrey straightened. "Yes, Father."

"And you must come back when you have settled your island," Robert told Jon. "I would have you and Robb as close to my son as Ned has been to me. We did well enough together, whatever the Hand remembers."

"I remember being asked to forgive rather a great deal," Arryn said.

Jon smiled. "We shall have to ask Lord Arryn for the stories."

"You will hear them from me. He always leaves out the good parts." Robert held his cup out to Lancel, then caught sight of the pale line between Jon's thumb and forefinger. "That was from the wildling?"

Jon turned his hand upon the table. "Her sword went through my glove."

"Ned gave me less of the fight than of the wounded afterwards." Robert settled back, watching Jon. "Tell me. You were camped in a charcoal burner's clearing?"

"An old one, with the pits still there. We had twenty-five of my household. My father and Robb had gone to settle a quarrel between the Hornwoods and Cerwyns. The raiders saw them leave. They wanted our horses, mail and food."

"So you stayed."

"We could block the narrow ways in and keep together. I would not lead horses and baggage into trees where we could scarcely see one another."

Robert nodded, chewing a mouthful of bread. "How did they come at you?"

Jon used his cup to show where the horses had stood, pointing out spring and bank. Robert cleared space. Renly ceased speaking to Arthur.

"Their bowmen kept us behind the shields. Others came at the barriers. One reached the horses with a torch."

"That would have emptied your camp," Caron said.

"We killed him and put it out. Men were coming through at the spring. My uncle held the approaches with Gared and Desmond."

Robert looked past Jon. "Both ways, Dayne?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Both men with me were wounded. Beyond us were the boys tending Finnan."

"And this woman?"

"Sygga," Jon said. "She stayed where she could see us. Her second had a horn. Whenever we moved men to meet one attack, she sent another against the place they had left."

"She had fought before, then."

"Often, I think. She moved when men left the line to cover Finnan. Then Keir fell at the western end. He had shielded my page from an archer, and a man threw a spear into him." Jon looked towards Aries, standing with Tomas by the door. "I sent three men to close the gap. Sygga reached them before they had settled."

"She thrust for a man's throat. I caught her sword. Tomas was behind me, but the middle still needed him. I sent him back."

"And took her yourself."

"I was there, Your Grace."

The king gave a small nod. "Go on."

Telling Ned, his hand had still been bandaged. Here, over clean linen, Jon remembered the wet ground more clearly than the pain.

"I tried to crowd her with my shield. She stepped away, caught under the rim and struck me in the mouth with her own. Then she worked me towards the pit."

"Did you see where she was putting you?" Robert asked.

"Yes. I could not get round her. Tomas tried to reach me, but an archer drove him down. She forced me over the edge. That was when she cut my hand."

"My shield caught against the bank. I had to let it go. She came down after me with her point at my face and told me to drop the sword."

Joffrey leaned forward. Robert put down his bread. "She meant to take you alive?"

"She thought I might be worth something."

"You would have been. How did you get past her point?"

"Hugin and Munin came at her."

The king frowned. "Which of your men?"

"My crows." Robert turned towards Arthur, who inclined his head.

"I heard one cry out. I could not see Jon below the edge."

"Munin caught in her hair," Jon said. "Sygga shook her off, but Hugin came at her again. She lifted her shield. I struck her sword aside and thrust beneath her coat. She was still trying to hit me, so I struck again."

"With that hand?"

"It still held the sword."

Robert took Jon's wrist and turned the scar towards the candles. "A little farther and you might not have held anything." He released him. "Did you teach the birds that?"

"They were frightened when she drove me down. They have been with me since they were young."

That much was true. He had given Ned the same account.

"I hope you fed them well," Caron said.

"They seldom let me forget."

Robert laughed, but he was still studying Jon. "And when she fell? Did the others stand?"

"For a little while. We pushed the western shields forward three paces. My uncle killed the men still pressing him. Five ran. We took two alive."

"You let the five go?" Joffrey asked.

Jon looked along the table. "I kept my men in the camp."

"I would have ridden them down."

"Our horses were tied, my prince. Several men were hurt. We could not know whether more raiders waited in the trees."

"They were running away."

"And could have turned on the first fool who followed them alone," Robert said. He pointed the piece of bread in his hand at his son. "You could learn a thing or two from Jon, Joffrey. He knew when to keep his men together."

Joffrey reddened. Lancel studied the flagon. Beside his uncle below the dais, Gerren glanced at the prince and quickly away.

"Ser Aron says I have improved," Joffrey said.

"Then listen when a man tells you something you have yet to learn." Robert turned back to Jon. "Did they try you again?"

"No, Your Grace."

Cersei touched her son's arm. "Then you must watch him in the yard. I should like to see what you have learned, Lord Black. Ser Aron will find an opponent."

"I have promised Gerren Lefford a few passes, if Ser Aron has ground for us."

Gerren looked at his uncle. Lefford gave a small nod.

"Then we need not keep you from your promise," Cersei said. "After supper, I think."

Jon had raised children before. Joffrey had been shamed before his mother and the men whose praise he wanted. He would remember who sat beside his father.

Robert asked after the prisoners. Jon named Torwynd and Fenn, described their crossing at the Gorge, and answered questions about word reaching the Wall. The king refused the next dish until he finished.

"Your men did well," he said at last.

"They did."

"The three who died. What were their names?"

"Struan. Keir. Finnan." Jon could hear Finnan asking if he had done well. "They had been with me for years."

Robert lifted his cup. "To Struan, Keir and Finnan, then."

Arthur raised his cup. The others followed. Robert called back the dish and asked after the wounded. Only when Jon had answered did Thoros begin arguing with the musicians.

Lady Tanda came to the dais. "Your Grace, may we borrow your guests? Lord Mooton has scarcely spoken since Ser Arthur went past him."

Arthur looked towards the lower table.

"Go on, then," Robert said. He glanced at Jon. "Write to your father. Tell him I expect better of him next time."

"I will, Your Grace."

Jon rose and thanked Robert, who caught his forearm.

"And come back yourself. Dragonstone is no distance."

"When I can leave it in good order."

"Ned's answer already." Robert laughed and summoned Thoros. Renly accompanied them down. Joffrey turned away when Jon inclined his head.

Tanda seated them beside her daughters. Mooton turned eagerly to Arthur.

"Lord Caron tells me Corbray demanded sharp steel," Tanda said.

"He did."

"And regretted it," Rykker said, lifting his cup.

"He yielded honourably." Arthur's voice was quiet, but Rykker lowered the cup.

Mooton set his own down untouched. "He has always been very certain of himself."

"He had reason to be."

The river lord turned his cup by the stem. His voice dropped.

"Myles was very certain too."

Arthur turned fully towards him. "I remember."

"He wrote of you. When he was with the prince." Mooton glanced towards the dais. Robert was listening to Thoros, laughing with his head thrown back. "We still have the letters."

"I should be glad to read them, if you wished it."

Mooton's wife rested a hand upon his wrist. After a moment he nodded. "I could have copies made."

"Thank you."

Jon reached for bread while Mooton turned to his wife. His brother's killer was paying for supper.

Tanda named Lady Marissa and Lady Alys Buckler. Ralph leaned across. "Brus has told me what happened. Who caught his horse?"

"Rylas." Jon beckoned him from the door.

Buckler clasped Rylas's forearm. "My thanks to you both. Brus might have been dragged down the whole slope." Rylas bowed uncertainly until Jon let him return to his place.

Alys asked if Brus had eaten. Jon put down his knife as someone behind him asked for a cushion.

"Two," Tyrion said. He had wandered over from a table nearer the hearth. "I should like to see what you are eating before the servants take it away."

"You could stand upon the bench," Tygett replied.

"I tried that once. My father mistook it for an attempt to address the hall."

Tygett laughed and found a stool. Tyrion settled beside Jon. Darlessa joined them; Tyrek followed until the dais called him back.

"Lord Black." Tyrion settled upon the cushions. "At one table you were seven feet tall. At another your armour could turn an axe. I thought I had better come here before the third gave you wings."

"His crows would object," Arthur said.

Tyrion grinned, looking towards the clock beyond the doors.

"I have wanted to ask you about that. The keeper at the Rock winds up two weights every morning. One turns the hand, I suppose. Does the other lift the hammer?"

"Yes. The bell has its own wheels."

"So striking the hour does not slow the hand. What keeps the first weight from running straight to the floor?"

"A weighted bar swings above the wheels, catching and releasing one tooth at a time. Without it, they would race."

"And if it swings too quickly, noon comes early." Tyrion set down his cup. "Our keeper compares it with the sundial."

"As he should. Moving the little weights along the bar alters its pace. It needs tending."

"Our keeper guards it like my father's gold. I asked to try once. He offered to send for my brother."

"He could have let you watch. William does with the apprentices."

"Perhaps I should have asked for an apprenticeship." Tyrion looked towards the clock. "And another wheel counts the bell strokes?"

"Notches stop it striking. Getting their spacing right took some work."

"I can imagine the household's gratitude while you were learning."

"My brother made it strike early once. Father sent him to carry the firewood the kitchens had wasted."

They laughed. Jon had not thought of Robb's blistered hands for years.

"Come with us tomorrow," Jon said. "We are taking my armour to Tobho Mott after breakfast, then seeing something of the city."

"Gladly. Jaime asked me here, but duty has kept him busy." Tyrion glanced towards the white cloaks. "We have scarcely seen each other."

Tygett rested a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. Tyrion looked up, then reached for his cup.

"My father tried to have one of his men taught in your workshop," Tyrion said. "You refused him."

Rykker stopped attending to his plate.

"We sold him the clock he wanted."

"And kept the means of making more," Rykker said. "I wondered who had advised that."

"I did not need advice to keep my own work."

Rykker smiled slowly. "No. Perhaps you did not."

Jon liked Tyrion. Anything he said about Dragonstone might still reach the rest of his family.

Tanda introduced Lord Harrold Hayford, a square-faced man in green. "Six hundred foot," he said. "Do you train them all yourself, Ser Arthur?"

"They have officers of their own. I teach Lord Black's household. Ser Gawen teaches their riding."

Hayford looked towards Tomas and Rylas in their plain black coats. "I had taken them for guards. Are any of knightly birth?"

"A few," Jon said. "Most came without a sword or horse."

"Then I should like to see them in the yard," Balon Swann said.

"Before breakfast," Arthur told him. "You may judge Gawen's work for yourself."

Meredyth glanced towards her son at the squires' table. "Ser Balon, would your father consider my boy? I want him taught well."

"How old?"

"Twelve."

"He will want to see him ride. I can introduce them. I cannot promise the place."

Alys offered to ask her Stonehelm cousin whether he would eat well. Meredyth smiled at Arthur.

"He will accuse me of choosing the wrong household when he hears I sat beside you."

"Bring him to the lesson tomorrow," Arthur said, smiling. "If he will rise early."

"There," Rykker said. "And Dragonstone is rather nearer than Stonehelm."

Jon looked at him. Rykker reached innocently for his cup.

"My household is already formed," Jon told Meredyth. "Your son is welcome to the lesson. I have no place to offer him."

"He shall have the lesson," Tanda said. "And we may yet hear from Stonehelm."

Lefford stopped by, Gerren and the other squires behind him. "We have good masters here, Lady Meredyth. I shall put your son's name before Her Grace. Your father was known at the Tooth."

Meredyth thanked him. Her steward drew out a fresh sheet. Jon remembered the usher admitting Lefford while barring her way.

"A royal household offers opportunities which no island can," Lefford added.

Gerren straightened. Tygett glanced towards the dais. "Provided they find time to put a sword in his hand. Lancel has fetched enough wine to float a boat."

Darlessa caught Tyrek's sleeve as he returned. "This is the knight you have been asking about."

The boy bowed so deeply that his curls hid his face. "Ser Arthur."

"Tyrek. Your father says you are beginning with the sword."

"When Ser Aron lets me." He glanced at Jon. "Did you teach Lord Black when he was my age?"

"Before that."

"Will you teach here now?"

"I leave with him."

Tyrek's face fell. "Why aren't you one of the king's knights again?"

Lefford's cup stopped short of his mouth. At the table's end, a man in faded brown turned to listen.

"Because I have promised to serve Lord Black," Arthur said.

"But you could—"

"He has answered you," Tygett said quietly.

Darlessa drew Tyrek nearer. He eagerly answered Arthur's question about his practice sword. The listeners knew what the white cloak had meant to Arthur.

Lady Alayne Redwyne, who had been listening from Tanda's other side, set her cup before Lefford.

"Can you tell me who selected this?"

Leo looked at the pale wine. "I do not manage the royal cellars."

"My nephew did. Until last moon. I thought you might know his replacement."

"I know his family."

"A cousin of Lord Plumm?" Alayne glanced towards the dais and lowered her voice. "Was there any fault in my nephew's work?"

"None that I have heard. Her Grace approved the new keeper. He came recommended."

"So did my nephew."

"He was offered another place, with better wages."

"In the west. My brother sent him to serve the king. He already has a cellar at home."

Buckler put down his knife. "We have boys who would serve Robert. Men whose fathers served his father. We are told there is no room."

"The new keeper has experience," Lefford said. "He was not taken from a nursery."

"Neither was Alayne's nephew. Yet Lord Plumm's cousin needed a place, and one was found."

Lefford's mouth tightened. "Her Grace was satisfied with what she heard of him."

"I should settle for being heard," Hayford said. "My steward has called three times about fodder supplied to the royal stables. Have you been paid?"

"At last."

"This morning I was told the accounts must wait."

Jon remembered Gerren's warrant. Buckler was plainly tired of the queen's connections being preferred.

"The purveyor's sums differ from yours, Harrold," Arryn said from behind him. "Send my steward the deliveries after breakfast. If the accounts agree, you shall be paid."

"He has taken the copy twice."

"Put it in my steward's hand." Arryn turned to his clerk. "Be there. Do not let him be sent to another door."

"And my nephew, Lord Hand?" Alayne asked.

"Still in the city?"

"For the present."

"Keep him here. Unless the steward shows cause for dismissal, he resumes his duties with wages owed. The new keeper can assist." His clerk wrote. "Bring the order and recommendation."

"Her Grace approved that appointment," Lefford said.

"I heard you. I shall speak with her." Arryn rubbed the bridge of his nose. "For tonight, leave it there."

"Of course, my lord."

Alayne thanked him. Hayford spoke to the clerk while Arryn waited, rubbing one eye.

"Lady Jocelyn has the letter," Lefford told the clerk. "Tell her the Hand has asked for it."

The man in brown approached Arthur, a ploughman stitched upon his breast. Arthur rose.

"Ser Raymun."

"Ser Arthur." Darry took his hand and held it. "It has been a long time."

"It has."

Raymun struggled to finish, looking down at Dawn. Three Darry brothers had died at the Trident. Arthur waited until he released his hand.

Raymun introduced Jeyne, his sister, and her husband, Cleos Frey. Cleos bowed to Tygett. Genna Lannister's son, Jon remembered.

Darlessa asked Jeyne after her boys. "My elder would have asked Ser Arthur the same question," Jeyne said, smiling at Tyrek.

Raymun let the women speak. When he addressed Arthur again, his voice scarcely carried beyond them. "We heard so little of you in the North."

"Winterfell has been good to us."

"I am glad." Darry waited for a servant to pass. "And now Dragonstone."

"With Lord Black," Arthur said.

Raymun looked at Jon. "Some island families have served its lords for generations. Some have kin at Darry. Will you keep them in service?"

"Ethan has kept men from before the war. I need their knowledge. Those who work well have nothing to fear from my arrival."

"Ethan knows the men he has kept," Arthur said. "Lord Stark trusted his judgment."

"That is good to hear." Raymun's attention returned to Arthur. "I wish you well there."

"Thank you, Raymun."

Darry moved a chair for his sister, composed again as Darlessa asked about the boys.

Jon finished his meal, thanked Lady Tanda and rose to join Arthur. By the hall doors, Lady Jocelyn fastened Cersei's cloak. Joffrey waited beside her, Gerren holding the prince's practice harness.

A page intercepted Arthur: Barristan hoped to see him in the yard. Arthur agreed. Jon waited beside him, three paces from the queen.

"Beat Lord Black tonight, Gerren, and you may attend my son at his practice each morning." Cersei glanced towards Jon, then returned her attention to the squire.

Gerren bowed. "Your Grace." As mother and son moved on, he turned towards Jon.

"Ser Aron has made the west yard ready, my lord. My uncle has released me." He shifted the harness. "I am to take him this."

"Ser Aron judges," Jon said. "Blunted swords and practice rules."

"I shall tell him." Gerren went ahead, Andren Plumm hurrying out of the hall after him.

Jon sent Aries for his practice clothes. Robert had shamed Joffrey; Cersei would reward Gerren for putting Jon down. He meant to beat the squire cleanly, with both watching.

* * *

Lanterns lit the west yard, which smelled of lamp oil and cooling earth. Tomas and Rylas waited by the racks. Aries brought Jon's practice clothes; Gawen followed with his arm in a sling.

Gerren tightened his belt beside Andren. Loras, Lucan and Tygett had come. Caron and Swann arrived as Jon fastened his coat.

Arthur examined Jon's gloves. "You have had a long day."

"So has he."

"Then do not spend the first exchange pretending you have not." Arthur squeezed his wrist. "Watch him. Let him tell you how he means to fight."

Santagar checked Gerren's blunted sword, then gave Jon one of the same length.

"Three clean touches. No blows to the face. You stop when I call." The master-at-arms looked at each of them in turn. "This is practice."

Cersei entered with Joffrey and Jocelyn. Lefford joined Lucan. Gerren bowed to the queen, then faced Jon.

"No black armour tonight?"

"Not for practice." Jon inclined his head to the queen, then settled his grip again.

"Give him a turn to remember, Black," Caron called. Lefford murmured to Lucan. Jon recognised supper's divisions.

The first cut struck hard enough to drive Jon's blade against his shoulder. He turned with it and gave ground. Gerren followed in measured steps, his sword recovering neatly after each blow. He was stronger, and he knew how to use the extra reach. Jon let him press until the heels of his boots reached the darker earth beside the walk, then slipped left as Gerren cut towards his ribs.

Gerren checked the blow and returned his point. Jon knocked it wide, but Gerren's boot blocked his escape.

Jon stopped retreating. He met the next cut early, before Gerren could put his shoulder behind it, and drove his own point high enough to make the taller boy lift his guard. Gerren's elbow rose. Jon struck beneath it and was clear before the answering blade swept past.

"One," Santagar said.

Aries exhaled. "Well taken," Caron said. Lucan warned Gerren about his elbow. The squire rubbed his side and raised his sword.

"Again."

He gave Jon no easy opening. Boots scraped; blades rang. The bruise Jaime had left that morning pulled beneath Jon's coat. Gerren caught the hesitation, driving his next two blows to that side. The squire was learning him.

Jon showed him the opening a third time.

Gerren came hard behind his sword. Jon stepped towards him; their guards struck together. Close enough to see sweat in the squire's divided eyebrow, Jon turned his wrist, freed his blade and tapped Gerren's breast.

"Two. Separate."

Gerren pushed away. Jon let him go. The squire looked towards the covered walk, but Cersei answered Joffrey without glancing towards him.

"You have had a great deal of teaching," Gerren said.

"I have."

"Most of us must earn a knight's time."

Arthur had gone very still beside the racks. Jon let the complaint pass. He kept his eyes upon Gerren's sword.

"Do you want the next pass?" Jon asked.

Colour rose beneath Gerren's sunburn. "I am ready."

He tried to make Jon attack. His blade stayed low, his stance inviting a blow at the head. Jon moved right, then back, making him follow. Gerren resisted the first feint. At the second, his point twitched. Jon touched the opposing blade, withdrew before it could trap him and went low as the squire's guard came up. The blow stopped against Gerren's thigh.

"Three. Enough."

Gerren's sword was moving. He checked it late at Santagar's call; Jon felt the passing air. The point stopped beyond his shoulder.

Tomas had taken a step from the racks. Jon lifted his empty hand, keeping his gaze on Gerren. After a moment the squire lowered the blade.

"Well fought," Jon said.

He offered his hand. Gerren looked at it before taking it, his grip stiff through the glove. "My lord."

"You nearly had me against the walk."

"Nearly." Gerren bowed to Arthur and returned the sword with more care than he had shown Jon's hand.

Gerren turned towards the covered walk. Cersei drew her cloak closer about her shoulders. "Ser Aron will find the prince another partner for the mornings. Your uncle may keep you for the present, Gerren."

"Your Grace." Gerren bowed, but she had turned away. Joffrey went with her without looking at Jon. Lady Jocelyn followed.

Caron opened his mouth, but Tygett asked Santagar for a sword. "A good bout. Both of them." He weighed the blade.

Loras caught Jon by the sleeve as Aries hurried up with water. "That second turn. Show me."

Jon took Loras's wrist. "Here. I could not pull straight back. He had closed that way." Andren joined them as he demonstrated.

Tygett called to Arthur. "Will you give me a turn, Dayne? I should like to try you while I can still lift a sword."

Arthur looked at Jon, who had already turned to watch, then went to the rack.

Tygett drove him back with a cut which became a thrust halfway through. Arthur had to turn sharply to clear it. They crossed half the yard before his uncle caught the next blow and touched Tygett beneath the arm. The older Lannister looked down at the point and laughed, breathing hard.

They clasped forearms. Whatever Tygett said made Arthur smile. They returned the swords together while the squires crowded nearer.

The knights asked about the exchange. Gerren moved to join the lesson, but Lefford called for his cloak and took him away.

Barristan arrived while Arthur was correcting Caron's grip. The white cloak brought a change in his uncle's attention which Jon recognised. Arthur returned the practice sword and asked Gawen to take Jon back to their chambers.

On the way, the household captain asked when they could sail.

"The morning after tomorrow. I shall settle our leave with the king tomorrow."

"Then I shall have Voss ready." Gawen glanced back towards the yard. "Best not give them another day to find you amusement."

Jon was removing his coat when Arthur returned with Barristan and Jaime. Gawen went to the outer door. Once it closed, Arthur laid a paper upon the table.

"The king has agreed to the search," he said.

"The Hand's warrant opens the old stores," Barristan said, showing the seal. "His men will go with us. No landlord can turn them away."

Jaime stood beside the window. "Some of those buildings have been pulled down. Others have people living in them. We may find someone's bed where Rossart put his jars."

Jon thought of the kitchen boy struggling with his basket that morning. "Where will those people sleep if you have to move them?"

"I shall have the Hand's steward find lodgings."

"Before the houses are emptied," Jon said. "And someone to guard what they leave. A man may be slow to go if he thinks he will come back to an empty shop."

"The guards at the stores can watch their goods. I shall speak to the steward tonight."

"And if you find danger before we sail?"

"We clear the house at once. The guild will open the stores; my men will keep others away." Barristan turned to Arthur. "We can begin without you."

Arthur read in silence. Jon remembered his hands fumbling over the unfinished belt.

"Send me word when you have opened the first," Arthur said at last. "Even if there is nothing in it."

"I will write," Jaime said.

Arthur folded the paper and returned it. Neither man smiled, but when he rose he rested a hand on Jaime's shoulder.

Barristan pushed back his chair. "I had better find the steward while he is still awake." He looked towards Jon. "Stay out of the old cellars."

"Gladly," Jon said.

Arthur went with them to the yard. Jon listened to their retreating steps. The danger remained beneath streets full of unsuspecting people. At least men who believed Jaime were looking for it.

Jon brought his writing things to the table. He set down Arryn's warning and Cersei's demand: captains, seaworthy warships, men under arms. Ethan would supply the garrison's strength, Jon his own men and ships; Ned would send both accounts to the Hand. He added Robert's command to keep the Targaryen bannermen obedient, then described the harbour work he meant to begin.

Then Jon turned the sheet.

He wrote that Arryn looked tired and Robert missed Ned. The king had invited Robb and the girls south; he wanted their sons to know one another as they had at the Eyrie. Jon paused over Joffrey, then added that Robert had praised him at the prince's expense, and Joffrey had taken it badly.

There had been affection in this day. He had liked Robert handing cheese to an old man, Tyrion laughing over Robb's mischief with the clock, Arryn hearing news of the boy he had raised. None of it had made the throne less dangerous.

Caron and Swann had cheered him; Tygett had spared Gerren further humiliation. Jon would remember both. Settling his people on Dragonstone need not make the Stormlanders' quarrel his own.

He wanted the throne. He had wanted it before coming here; seeing the man upon it had given the desire weight. He meant to build the strength to take it, and the realm he would need when the cold came. It would require more than being cleverer than Robert or finding fault with his rule. Today Jon had seen men love him. He had watched the king hold a struggling beast upon his spear and laugh before he had caught his breath. If Jon came for that crown, he might have to fight the man who had killed Rhaegar, and men who remembered why they had followed him.

The clock sounded faintly through the walls. Jon looked at his letter. He had written nothing of that ambition. He finished with the hunt, the king's good wishes, and his intended sailing date.

He sanded the letter. Outside, practice swords rang in a short exchange. One of the men laughed, and this time Jon recognised Arthur. He went to the window and left it open.