On the tenth morning, Ormond caught Merren above Blackburn before the castle bell rang.
The Cinderwell headman had his daughter's account of the water folded beneath his cap. Dake followed upon a shaggy mare, barley caught in his saddlecloth. Both had expected to go straight to the castle.
"Come with me first," Ormond said. "We should speak before he puts those drawings before us."
Dake eased his mare to a walk. "We have been speaking to him all week."
"And what has he told you?"
"That he means to mend my barn."
"Did he leave your houses where they stood?"
Dake looked towards Merren. Ormond saw the answer before either spoke.
He took them to Tobin's counting room. Blackburn's harbour master made them wait while a carter showed him the split ends of a timber load. Borren, Saltcliffe's headman, arrived with the salt boiler; she went to find breakfast. Ormond closed the door behind her.
Tobin moved a basket of floats so Dake could sit. There was scarcely room for five men.
"He is taking down Eastcove," Ormond said. "Every house. Not just the bad roofs. Every one."
Tobin leaned against his desk. "He has said the same of Blackburn."
"He told you he would build new ones first?" Merren asked.
"He told me." Ormond gripped his cap, remembering the measuring rod against his brother's wall. "There are hundreds of his people in that camp. Who gets the keys when those doors are hung? The men he brought with him, or my brother?"
Outside, someone dropped a timber and swore.
"He has not said that," Tobin replied.
"Look who holds the chain and writes our names. He means to clear our villages and fill them with northerners."
Merren's thumb pressed against the paper beneath his cap. "My daughter showed him where the water breaks through. He listened."
"And now he knows where to put his own people."
Dake shifted in the chair. "He sent my seed back."
"Two sacks against a village? We shall be told to move while his men settle in. Then the timber will be needed for a ship, the coin for his soldiers. We have all heard reasons before."
Borren stood beside the door, rubbing at a damp patch on his sleeve.
"He has work for our men," he said.
Ormond turned on him. "Does that buy the ground beneath your house?"
"No." Borren's hand stopped. "But I would hear him before I called him a thief."
Ormond looked from one to the other. They would still be afraid to say it when the first walls came down.
"Then let us ask Ethan. He knows what those houses are to us. He has heard us for years."
"Ethan is a northerner," Dake said.
"He has lived here." Ormond put his cap back on. "And he knows which promises the island can afford."
"I will ask who gets the houses and when," Tobin said. "I will not tell Ethan that Lord Jon has ordered something none of us heard." He opened the shutter to call a boy to watch the timber.
Ormond led them up the hill. He had got them to come.
Ethan listened outside the stores, his crooked hand resting upon a cracked grain bin. At the mention of northern families taking the new homes, he looked to Tobin.
"Was that said?"
"No," Tobin answered. "But people will ask it. They see the camp. They see the drawings. We need to know whose homes are being built."
"And what becomes of our leave to draw water and work beside our doors," Merren added. "A room is not everything."
Ethan had the storekeeper carry the bin away. "No. It is not."
"Then speak to him," Ormond said. "You kept this island before he could write his name. He may hear you where he will not hear us."
"He has heard you."
"He has measured us."
Ethan's face hardened. "I will bring your concern to him. I will not promise to stop work he has ordered."
"Even if it costs us our villages?"
"He means to rebuild them. There is a difference."
"There is to the man with the drawing."
"At the meeting," Ethan said, "you will ask about your homes, your work and the order in which people move. Ask what you need answered. Do not tell the other villages they are being driven out to make room for strangers unless that is what my lord has ordered."
Merren unfolded his daughter's paper. Already, Ormond thought, they were turning it into a matter of measurements.
"Come to the hall," Ethan told them. "I will speak to him before he joins us."
Ormond followed the others through the stores arch. Two northern boys were helping an island guard carry a bench. He stepped aside for them without returning the younger one's greeting.
* * *
Jon was at his desk, trying to fit two red shell fragments together, when Ethan knocked.
They met along one jagged edge, then parted at the next. He laid them upon the cloth. The other finds filled shallow trays, each gathering kept apart as Tomas had brought it from the caves. Beside the lamp, Aries had left a gold-coloured piece with a question beneath it: was this from the same egg as the red?
Jon had no answer yet. He put the paper beneath the tray and admitted Ethan.
The castellan shut the door. He gave Ormond's words without softening them, then distinguished what Tobin and the others had actually asked.
"Did you promise them anything?" Jon asked.
"To put it before you. Nothing more."
"Good." Jon laid the linen over the shells. "Today they will see where their new houses will stand."
"They need to hear who will live in them as well."
"They shall."
Ethan looked towards the bundled drawings. "Ormond has been asking for repairs for three years. He finds a whole new village harder to believe than another refusal."
"That gives him reason to question me. Not to decide what I intend and carry it about the island."
"I told him so."
Jon took up the drawings. His right knuckle still objected when he tightened the cord; he loosened it and used his left hand.
"You have lived with these people longer than I have," he said. "Tell me what they are afraid to ask. But I will not leave the villages as they stand."
"I know." Ethan opened the door for him. "Tobin will ask about the netmakers."
"Then we begin with the road that serves them."
The hall had been cleared of all but two long tables. At one, the village heads sat with the people who knew their work: the salt boiler, Eastcove's potter and his daughter, two farmers Dake had brought, and the netmaker whose stairs narrowed Blackburn's harbour lane. The masters and officers occupied the other. Qavo had drawn Naella's stool close enough that she could hear without interrupting every speaker. William kept a hand over his order book whenever a cup came near it.
Ethan sat beside Jon, Arthur at his other hand. Captain Denys had brought the warship captains. Voss and Marrec sat nearest the harbour drawings, Broad Oak's captain holding his gloves between his knees. Perkin set the cohort's pay roll beside Abel's accounts and went to speak with Hewyn.
Jon remained standing while Otho spread the island drawing. Roads joined the villages to Blackburn; kilns and workshops clustered where land and water would serve them. The sight still pleased him.
There were years of building upon that sheet. He could not wait for each undertaking to finish before beginning another. The thought of facing war with half his strength still upon paper had kept him working long after the castle slept.
"I mean to rebuild all five villages and make Blackburn a city," he said. "The kilns will supply the building yards. Our forges will make their tools and fittings, and the harbour will bring in what we lack and carry out what we sell. You have each shown me your own ground. Today you will see how it joins the rest."
"A city?" Merren looked towards Ethan. "Is that what you advised?"
Jon kept his hand upon the drawing. Ethan had opened his mouth, but closed it when Jon spoke.
"The plans are mine. Ask me."
Merren shifted upon the bench. "Then begging your pardon, my lord, who has built such a place for you before?"
"No one. I have rebuilt a ruined holding, brought its fields into cultivation and put water to work in its forges. Bennard built the wheels with me. Noll has worked beneath the hammers."
"In the North," Ormond said.
"At Miller's Run."
"We have heard of it. None of us has seen it."
Men murmured agreement. Dake had sons older than the lord who proposed to alter his fields. A tourney and a fight in the woods proved little about rebuilding villages. Jon's own men had watched his work grow over years; these men had known him for a week.
"You shall see the work here," Jon said. "You will have the drawings today, and the men to begin setting out the ground. Otho has measured what we need. When we reach your village, tell me where you think the plan fails."
"We begin with the roads." Jon drew over the harbour sheet and traced the lane to where it pinched between the smokehouse and the netmaker's stair.
"You cannot widen that without taking our stair," the man said.
"No. Your house is among the first to be replaced. Your new workroom opens here, towards the boats. Living rooms above it, a yard behind."
"My daughter lives with us."
"She is in the count," the maester said, finding the entry. "Her husband too."
The netmaker bent over the house drawing until his beard touched its edge.
"Where do I spread a sail?"
"Along this side," Otho said, showing the yard beside the workroom.
"For your nets and the fishing boats' sails," Jon said. "The larger ships will need sail lofts at the arsenal. I have allowed ground for those as well."
The netmaker looked towards the southern shore upon the larger drawing. "Who will work them?"
"We shall come to that."
Ormond's chair scraped. "And he gets that house before the stair comes down?"
"Yes. Throughout the island, houses will be replaced as the new streets and works advance. Sound houses remain until their households have somewhere ready. Ethan is moving those beneath dangerous roofs into temporary lodging."
"And the northern families?" Ormond asked.
"They need homes too. We shall build them beside the work they have come to do."
"In the first rows?"
"Some. Their craftsmen will help build those rows. But no house assigned to an island household will be taken for them." Jon touched the maester's return. "We counted everyone so we could provide for everyone."
"Five thousand four hundred and thirty people," the maester said, opening the return. "Seven hundred and forty-six newly come. The others were already here."
"Every household must have its place before Ethan moves it," Jon said.
The netmaker ran his finger along the proposed yard once more. Ormond kept his hands beneath the table.
"Nothing is built yet," he said.
"No," Jon answered. "That is what we are here to begin."
Jon turned Blackburn's sheet towards its harbour master, Tobin. "Here we shall gather the island's goods, and bring other captains to buy, repair and take on cargo."
Fishing boats kept the northern landing and the ground for spreading nets. Cargo quays occupied the middle reach, with weighing sheds before long warehouses. Hoist beams projected over loading courts; the floors stood above Otho's storm line. Grain had stores apart from the oil and pitch.
Jon traced the passage goods would take through weighing sheds into store, clear of the market. Carts entered by a broad road behind the warehouses. Tobin's rooms overlooked the berths and weighing ground.
The gated arsenal occupied the southern slope: seasoning grounds, saw pits and a frame loft above three slipways. Two were for Qavo's oarless ships; the third was reserved ground.
Long sail lofts stood beside the fitting-out shore, with canvas stores below and clear floors above. Ropewalks lined the yard; riggers' shops stood near the slips.
"These will supply the fleet, the ships we build and the merchants coming here for repairs," Jon told the netmaker. "Cutters, sailmakers, sewing hands and apprentices working together. There will be room for several crews."
The man leaned over the lofts. "I mend what they bring me. I have never cut sails for a ship such as his." He nodded towards Qavo.
"Then we need masters who have fitted large ships. You know the island's boats and their work. There is a place for that skill here."
"And all the cloth?" Tobin asked.
"Bought at first. The weaving shops will supply it as we build them and train the hands. I want sailcloth made here as well as sails."
"You expect ships to stay here for work," Tobin said.
"And to return for it." Jon looked towards Denys. "First, the ships we have. How many can you put to sea?"
"All ten warships, my lord. Stone Drum made her last twelve days with ordinary work at the pumps. Salt Wraith has carried her new mast through a squall. The others have held their rounds."
Stone Drum's captain leaned forward. "I want a second suit of sails aboard. We can patch what we have, but the sailmakers need time."
"Tell Tobin how much canvas and cordage you need," Jon said. "And your crews?"
"We have the men for the ships," Denys answered. "I would have the captains exercise together more often. A crew can handle her own galley well enough and still foul another when both turn upon a signal."
"When Greyjoy rose, you held the centre off Fair Isle after King's Tooth lost her mast," Jon said. "You sent boats for Black Gull's survivors and returned to your station. That is the service I want from the man commanding my fleet. Captain Denys, you will serve as acting admiral until further notice."
Denys rose. The captain beside him straightened in his chair.
"I will serve, my lord."
"The captains answer to you for the fleet's service. Set their watches, see to their readiness and bring their needs to me. Arrange the exercises around the escorts and patrols."
Jon turned to Voss as Denys sat.
"Black Tern?"
"Sound. Hobb went over the repaired seam himself. He came back dry." Voss glanced towards Qavo's drawing. "Give him a place to work upon boats, and he will be happier still."
"He shall have it. Marrec, how soon can the merchantmen carry building supplies?"
"The four roundships and both cogs have room again. Broad Oak can take a load now. Long beams will take more handling than sacks, and I need the landing clear when we bring them in."
"Tobin will give you the berth and men to clear it. Keep Broad Oak ready for the first timber. Denys will arrange the escort; the remaining holds can carry grain and the goods Abel has ordered."
Qavo nodded over the turn Otho had widened for his keel timbers.
"Keep the sound landing open while we rebuild the damaged berth," Jon told Tobin. "Leave the beach beside the slips for repairs. Otho, begin the harbour arm from its sound root and keep the channel marked."
"The outer length will take time," Otho said.
"Qavo must have a safe launch. Finish what he needs first."
Tobin marked the working berths upon his copy.
The second sheet showed Blackburn from the water. Rows of tiled roofs climbed towards Dragonstone's towers, broken by courts and wider streets. Limewashed brick rose above black stone footings; shops faced the roads, family rooms above their shutters. Jon had left the farther wards in charcoal.
Tobin held it towards the window, comparing it with the harbour below.
"You have left the market above the warehouses."
"And given it room to become a great bazaar." Jon placed the ground plan beside the view. "The present market will occupy the first court. Goods going into store use this road behind the warehouses. Those going to the stalls turn here."
He remembered reading of Qarth's bazaar, its bright birds and planted terraces. He wanted that wealth of goods within Blackburn: island wares beside foreign cloth and spices, buyers finding more than one ship could carry.
"Qarth draws trade through the Jade Gates. We stand before King's Landing, at the entrance to Blackwater Bay. Let merchants sell part of a cargo here, buy another and leave goods safely with a factor, and we can earn from more than what this island produces."
Covered stalls and cart yards would come first. Further courts could grow around them without closing the market, joined by a covered walk. Jon showed where inns and cookshops would face the approaches, their stores reached from behind.
"And the women who sell a basket of fish?" Tobin asked. "They cannot take a merchant's shop."
"They keep stalls by the fish landing, and there will be places for small sellers here as well. Charge them for the space they use. A woman bringing eggs should not pay the same rent as a man keeping three rooms full of silk."
Beyond the market lay the first houses. Their shared courts held cisterns and washing ground, with bakehouses opening onto them. Second stairs gave the upper rooms another way out. Gardens lay behind the outer rows; other households would have plots beyond the town. Each ward had a well and a small square for food sellers.
"The court stays open," Jon said. "No one is to roof it over for another shop."
The main streets followed gentler slopes, broad enough for laden carts to pass. Smaller lanes ran between the houses. No upper chamber could bridge a principal road and close the view towards castle or harbour.
Otho's cutaway showed drains beneath the paving, accessible for cleaning and falling away from the drinking supply and inner harbour. The privies had separate approaches for removing waste.
"These cuts go in while the ground is open," Jon said. "And the streets follow the lines Otho marks. No man is to narrow a road with his shop or build across a drain. If he does, he will pull it down." He looked around the table. "I will not have my plans for this city ruined because men build wherever they please. Dragonstone will not become a cesspit."
Larger plots beyond the first wards were to remain clear of cottages and sheds. Jon had marked them himself; their buildings belonged to the fuller drawings in his chamber.
Tobin pointed out the smokehouses again. "Those must keep working until the new sheds can take the fish."
"Then we build the new sheds with the first homes. The quay earns nothing while fish spoils beside it."
Otho marked the smokehouses beside the first house row. Ormond followed the movement of his quill, then looked towards the accounts waiting beside Abel.
Hewyn had found the camp upon the broader drawing. "Your streets have reached our tents."
"They will." Jon laid the plan of the higher ground beside it. "The new fort goes here. I shall call this ground the Black Fields."
Barracks, stores and armouries stood within the defences; drill fields spread beyond. Workshops and horse lines stood apart from the sleeping quarters.
"Like the fort we built in the North, but much larger. A permanent home for the legion, with room for its full strength: five thousand five hundred men."
Merren stared at him. "More soldiers than there are people on the island?"
"When the First Legion is complete. We begin with quarters for the six hundred here, and build the rest as we recruit." Jon looked to Hewyn. "The present camp stays until the new quarters have water, a road and covered stores. You and Otho inspect them before the men move."
Hewyn bent over the barracks. Scales pointed out a bank that narrowed the riding ground; Otho marked it for cutting back.
"Eastcove supplies much of the material for that building." Jon drew its sheet into the cleared space. "You have the clay beds, men who know how they fire, and shell for lime. I mean to enlarge the yards until they can supply brick, roof tile and drainpipe to the whole island. Common pots will still have their place; later we shall send what the yards can spare to buyers across the bay."
Ormond sat forward at once.
The works stood between the clay pits and the road, clear of the filled workings Otho had found beneath the site Jon had first chosen for a shed. Jon had moved the houses uphill after Ormond's warning about winter smoke. A separate shore lane served netyard and cooperage; the well had its own approach.
"You keep access to the boats," Jon told Ormond. "The carts carrying clay do not cross the lane outside your brother's workroom. Nor do finished loads back through the firing yard."
The potter's daughter set a bowl beside the drawing and pointed out where they lost fine clay when emptying the washing pit. Jon marked a second settling basin for Otho, clear of the well's supply.
Covered mixing places and forming benches led to the drying houses. Beyond them stood three long buildings, each within its own firing court. The potter searched the drawing for the kilns until Jon laid a finger upon the first.
"That whole building?"
Jon unfolded the drawing that showed its interior. Chambers lay beside one another, joined by passages beneath the brickwork. The potter bent closer. His daughter stood to see over his shoulder.
"You have divided the kiln."
"The chambers work in turn. While one is firing, its heat passes into the next and warms the brick waiting there. We can empty a cooled chamber without stopping the rest."
"And get a sound firing all the way through?" The potter looked from the chambers to the passages beneath them. "Make mine twice as wide and I would scorch the pots beside the fire while the middle stayed underburnt. This is larger than my house."
"The passages and shutters let us govern where the heat goes. I will show you at the first firing."
Otho turned the sheet towards himself. He had copied these passages twice under Jon's direction; now he followed them again with his finger.
"I can set out the walls. You must show the masons how these join before they close them over. None of them has built such a thing. Nor have I."
"I shall be there to lay it out and inspect it," Jon said. "The first firing will be under my hand."
The potter studied Jon. "I would keep my own kiln burning until I have seen what comes out of yours."
"Keep it. Its brick helps us build the first; the first supplies the next. Compare your lining clay with Noll's. We shall need the best of it."
Jon pointed past the fuel stores to a smaller kiln. Ormond stared at it.
"And that? You had not enough fire already?"
"That one is for different work."
Jon set the pale fired chip beside the potter's bowl.
"Porcelain."
Qavo looked up before Naella translated. The potter's daughter glanced at her father, who had not moved.
"The thin white ware that comes from the east," Jon said. "Hard through the body, not red clay hidden beneath a white glaze. Fine enough for light to show through its edge."
"I saw a cup like that in Myr," Naella said. "The merchant would not let anyone lift it."
"Then I would like his customers to have more choice."
Abel's quill stopped. William bent to see the chip, though Jon kept a finger upon it.
"This is not porcelain," Jon said. "It tells me where to begin looking. The pale clay must be tried with the proper stone, finely ground, and a hotter firing than we use for ordinary pots. I have drawn a smaller kiln so we can change the body and the heat without spoiling a yard's worth of building material."
"You know how to make it?" the potter asked.
Clay filled the cracks of the potter's fingers. His gaze left the chip and settled on Jon's face.
"I was working clay before I was your age, my lord. I have never known a potter who could make a cup like that."
"I know how it is made. We must find which of your clays will serve, and what must be brought from elsewhere. I shall teach you the process myself."
The potter rubbed his jaw. "At that heat I have had bowls slump together. You open the kiln and find one lump where twenty stood."
"That is why we begin with small firings. I shall give you the mixtures to try. We change one thing at a time and keep the failures where we can compare them."
His daughter picked up the chip. "I can make the little trial pieces. They need to be alike if we are comparing them."
"Yes."
She looked at her father, then back to Jon. "And I would like to be there when they are fired."
"You shall. What is your name?"
"Ellyn, my lord."
"Ellyn will work at the trial kiln with us," Jon told the potter.
"She makes most of our bowls. I still have customers for those."
"Then we shall arrange the firings so you can keep them supplied. I want her to learn the mixtures as well as shape the pieces."
Ellyn laid the chip beside her bowl. Ormond had watched without touching the drawing.
"Painted cups," the headman said. "We need houses."
"The three large kilns make the brick, tile and pipes for them. The little one begins work that may pay for more than houses." Jon moved the chip clear. "I will not promise buyers a ware we have not made. Nor will I wait until every road is paved before we learn to make it."
He told Marrec which materials to seek. Ellyn turned her bowl towards the window. Daylight shone upon its glaze; none passed through it. She held it a moment longer before putting it away.
Jon brought Saltcliffe's sheet forward.
"Your salt supplies the island, with a little left to sell. I intend to make it a trade worth sending ships here for."
Borren drew the sheet towards him. Curing sheds, cask stores and a cooper's shop stood behind the fishing landing. Beyond them, the saltworks occupied more ground than all the rest together.
The salt boiler put her hand upon that part of the drawing.
"How many pans do you mean to put there?"
"We begin with one boiling house." Jon showed her the boilers above their brick fire passages, with vessels and channels between them.
She traced a channel, lost it where the drawing cut through a vessel, and withdrew her finger.
"I know a salt pan, my lord. I do not know what that is."
"The vessels do separate work. Heat leaving one warms the brine for the next, instead of going straight out of the shed."
Noll leaned over the metalwork. "We can make the plates. Fitting them to this will take work."
"You and Otho will build the first with me."
There was no saltworks he could send them to study. They could shape iron and lay brick; Jon would have to teach them how those crafts could build the machinery he remembered.
"And the salt will be white," he said. "Without the grit or bitter taste."
"White?" The woman stared at him. "From the same sea?"
"Yes. We separate what is mixed with it."
Marrec laid his papers down. "I have carried salt out of half a dozen ports. I have never seen it white."
"You will carry it out of this one."
"I skim my pan," the woman said. "I keep the ash out. There is still grey in every grain."
"We clean the brine before the salt forms and lift the grains out before the bitter liquor boils down with them. I shall show you the process when the first boiler is ready. You can taste the result beside what you make now."
"And the grains?"
"Washed in strong brine, then drained."
"You mean to wash salt?"
"In brine too full of salt to dissolve much more."
She looked towards Noll again. He was still following a join beneath the vessel. Neither had an answer for the other.
Her eyes returned to Jon's young face. "And if it comes out grey?"
"Then I find where the impurities entered and correct it. The boilers will be built as I have drawn them." He held the sheet flat. "Keep your pan working until we can replace its supply. Choose two experienced people to learn with you."
Marrec wanted a sample for buyers. Jon promised one when they had made it. Fine salt would find its way to wealthy tables first; with fuel and trained hands, he meant to supply cargoes for curers and provisioners too. The sea lay at his door. This trade could grow far larger than the clocks.
The woman pointed out where fish barrels were washed, too close to the proposed brine intake. Jon had Otho move the washing place beyond the landing. Borren offered to keep the accounts as the works grew. Jon let the offer stand. Nothing yet proved that the darker rumours belonged upon a council table.
He pointed to the bank beneath the nesting ledges.
"Keep the dry bird dung clear of the beach sand. Dake has the first sack to try. If the crop answers, we shall arrange its gathering and storage."
Dake drew the sheet closer and followed the road towards his fields.
"Cinderwell has water, stone and the old mineral workings," Jon continued. "The drinking supply comes first."
Merren produced his daughter's measurements. Both branches had held during yesterday's draw. Jon ordered the damaged wall secured, with the clean-water course kept above the washing places and clear of ore carts. New homes stood below the protected spring ground; stone-cutting sheds faced the quarry road.
Until Otho understood the water in the lower workings, men would take only sound stone they could reach safely above it.
"Keep the dragonglass they find," Jon added. "Whole pieces, wrapped against breaking. Smaller sound pieces can be worked into knives."
He had not forgotten the Wall. These men had enough to consider without hearing why he wanted glass points kept against an enemy they believed belonged in tales.
Noll laid out his ore samples. One had given a little iron; another yielded too much waste to promise useful work.
"The miner will take you to the better seam," Jon said. "Find its extent. Otho settles the drainage before men clear the workings. Keep the spoil beyond the water running towards Cinderwell."
"We shall need iron before that."
"We shall buy it." Jon opened the mill sheet. "For this."
Bennard reached for it. Yesterday he and Noll had gone over the burned mill together; their charcoal corrections lay across the wheel pit and the old bank. He smoothed the folded sheet with both hands, checking what Otho had drawn from their measurements.
"Another Blackworks," Jon said. "Smelting ground, forges, a hammerhouse and armourers' shops."
Merren followed the water line. "That is not our spring."
"No. The mill stream gives us power. Your spring gives you drinking water."
Noll unfolded the furnace drawing. Merren put a hand beside the little figure at its foot.
"Is that meant to be a man?"
"To show its height."
"You cannot work that like a smith's hearth."
"It is fed from above. The blast enters below."
"Have you built one?"
"Not of this size. It must be built and lined as I direct. We begin the forges with bought iron while we raise it."
Bennard studied the race. "The bellows need their own wheel. We may have enough fall to use the water again for the hammer."
"Measure it. Give each wheel a bypass so one can work while the other is mended. Build for the hammer first."
Then Bennard found wheel timbers allotted to kiln roofs. Qavo objected too; Naella explained that some lengths had been chosen for ship frames.
"Qavo keeps his frame pieces," Jon said. "Bennard takes what the wheel needs. Otho, cover the first kiln with what remains. Raise the other walls while Marrec brings more."
Otho corrected the allocations. Noll kept his finger upon the finishing shops.
"The furnace iron needs working before it is a sword."
"The refining hearths supply sound bars and plate. We need picks, nails and wagon fittings as well as weapons. These forges will have work before the legion takes all they can make."
"I can teach two at my hearth. Give me twelve, and I spend the day keeping them out of one another's way."
"Two, then. Island men as well as those we brought." Jon asked the maester to write offers for furnace keepers, hammermen and armourers: wages, passage and homes for their families. Denys would send them with the departing captains.
William's clock rooms had ground nearer Blackburn, clear of the case makers' sawdust. Perrin had answered the eastern enquiries, but existing orders came first; Lady Merryweather's clock retained its place.
Around those rooms Jon showed courts for weavers and cloth finishers. Beyond the inhabited streets he had reserved ground for glass, soap and dyes, with fuel roads and drainage clear of the cleaner trades.
Tobin studied the workshops. "We have no men who can build your kilns or boilers without you. How many more trades must you teach?"
"The new methods are mine to teach. But open your eyes to what we are building. The weavers supply the sail lofts. The lofts and ropewalks fit the ships. The forges supply their ironwork, and Saltcliffe their provisions. Each trade gives work to the others."
The netmaker looked from the lofts to the ships. "I would need men beside me."
"And some will need you to teach them. Think of what a fleet requires, year after year. We shall have whole industries here."
Dake had waited with his hands folded. When Otho mentioned men for another foundation, he reached for the island drawing.
"Some of those men will be bringing in the harvest. I need them."
"You keep them." Jon drew the farm sheets forward. "Now, Wyrm's Rest."
Dake had reckoned close to six hundred acres under the plough around the village, with perhaps three hundred more in meadow and grazing. Otho's lines distinguished those holdings from the farther farms they had walked. Jon had marked the deeper soil separately from the stony strips and the wet hollow below the ruined barn.
"You have good barley ground, beans, meadow and cattle. I mean to bring the farms under one management, use the teams properly and keep more fodder."
Dake bent over the larger fields and found a boundary missing.
"That wall separates three holdings."
"It comes out after harvest. The teams will plough across that ground as one field."
"Three families sow there."
"They will work it together. I shall choose crops for the estate as a whole, with men overseeing the grain, stock and teams."
"You choose what I sow?"
"Yes."
Dake sat back. One farmer began to speak, then stopped when he raised a hand.
"I thought you meant to mend the barn and lend us better ploughs. My father worked that holding. I work it. We pay what is owed. Who decides when my oxen go into my field?"
"The man overseeing the teams, following the order I set."
"Then it will no longer be my holding."
"The land belongs to me, Dake. After this harvest I am taking its farming into my own hands. I shall provide the seed, tools and stock we need. Those who work it will be paid through the year."
Dake spread his hand over the drawing. He had come prepared to argue about roads and labour. Now he understood that decisions his family had made for generations would belong to a boy at the castle.
"The whole crop is yours, then. And I buy back the barley my sons and I have grown?"
"You may take part of your wages in grain. Your garden and poultry remain yours. The estate's harvest goes into its stores."
"You would make hired men of us."
"We cannot drain a hollow properly while each man stops at his boundary. Nor will I keep teams idle on one holding while the next waits for a plough. I want your knowledge of this ground used. The decisions will be mine."
"I have fed my family without a man at the castle telling me when to turn an ox."
"And I must feed the families coming to the works and the legion I mean to raise. Even worked together under my direction, with better tools and methods, these farms will not feed everyone I intend to settle here. We shall still buy grain by sea. I will have this land yield as much as it can."
Even the men from Miller's Run had never seen farming organised on this scale. Dake kept looking where his boundary should have been.
"I own my oxen," said his neighbour.
"They remain yours. If you put them to the estate's work, you are paid for their use as well as your labour."
"My brother owes days of work instead of some of his barley," Dake said.
"Those dues end when paid work begins. The standing crop is gathered under the terms on which you sowed it." Jon turned to the maester. "Bring the rents and services when we meet the households. I will settle wages and grain allowances before the change."
"You had best tell them yourself. I will not say I offered you their holdings."
"You have offered nothing. This is my decision, and I shall tell them so. Ethan, arrange for me to meet them after the day's harvest work. The maester comes with us."
Dake lowered his hand. Jon showed him the rebuilt barn, its threshing court and dry grain stores, with fodder sheds and a dairy beyond. Homes stood on higher ground, their yards clear of the cattle route. Jon explained the rotation briefly, leaving meadow and unsuitable ground to the uses their soil allowed. Dake followed his hand without speaking. He had spent a lifetime judging a season by what his own holding would yield. Now Jon was showing him the store from which his family would be paid.
His neighbour pointed to the wet hollow. "That will not take a plough when the rest are ready."
"The outlet is cleared first. Work outside the standing crop now; cross it after harvest."
When Jon asked which ground dried first, Dake answered after a pause, his voice flat.
"And Borren's dung?" he asked at last.
"A small trial beside the same crop without it. I want to see what it does here before we scatter it across good seed."
His neighbour grunted agreement. Dake folded his drawing and kept it beneath his hand.
Around him, the others were comparing their sheets. The potter asked Noll about fire clay; Tobin kept his city view propped against a cup, glancing towards the harbour. Otho answered a question about cart roads, then gathered the kiln drawings.
"And the soldiers for the works?" he asked.
"Two hundred at any one time, shared across them all," Jon said. "Hewyn, rotate the details so their drill continues. Otho directs them while they are building."
"And who sees our houses finished while your men build all this?" Ormond asked.
"I do. Eastcove's first kiln and houses are among the works we begin now."
"Men have begun there before. We are still waiting for them to finish."
"Your people keep their roofs until the new ones are ready."
"That is what you say." Ormond looked towards Ethan. "He is twelve. He has put more building before us in one morning than we have seen in twenty years."
The room quieted. Even Qavo looked up from Naella's translation.
Jon put down his quill. "You will address me, Ormond."
"I meant no offence."
"You meant Ethan to overrule me." Jon waited until the man met his eyes. "I asked you here because you know Eastcove. Your warning about the smoke was useful. If you find a fault, I expect to hear it. But my age does not give you leave to set aside my orders."
Ormond's face reddened. No one spoke for him.
"I am your lord. The rebuilding will go forward. You feared your people would be turned out for mine. I have answered that before everyone whose hands will build these houses. The maester will write it with my orders. Ethan will answer for moving the households. You will know where each is to go before its walls come down."
Ethan inclined his head, accepting the duty.
"My brother built his own house," Ormond said. "He does not wish to trade it for a promise."
"He will trade it for a completed house. But he will move." Jon's voice remained level. "The rebuilding is not awaiting his consent, or yours. Give Otho the help I ordered. If you mean to prevent the work, say so now, and I will appoint a headman who will carry it out."
Ormond's jaw worked. At length he lowered his eyes.
"As my lord commands."
There was no trust in it. Jon had not expected any.
Food came while the clerks copied the plans. The headmen drew together, comparing what Jon had proposed for their villages. Tobin answered questions with the netmaker listening at his shoulder. Dake spread his farm drawing again, speaking quietly to his neighbours. Ormond leaned across to look, but kept his own copies close. Tobin had pushed his bowl aside to keep broth off the harbour road.
Jon ate little. He would need everything useful he could recall: the engineering he had practised, the navy's lessons in keeping men supplied, work upon the family farm. Tools and methods scarcely thought about for years must be remembered, adapted and taught. These drawings were only a beginning.
He had roughly two years if events followed the course he remembered. He would still be training men when war consumed the strength the realm needed against the Others. Working harder would not be enough. He would have to delay the disaster itself.
It began with Jon Arryn's death. Keeping the old Hand alive might buy time; he would have to find a way soon.
Otho brought the last copies. Jon set aside his cup and rose. The conversations died away.
"I mean to make Dragonstone prosperous. Its ships will carry goods made here. Its craftsmen will have work enough to teach their sons and daughters. Families will put food aside for winter, and men find paid work without leaving the island."
He rested his hand upon the plans.
"That will change the life you know. Some of you will leave houses your fathers built. You will learn unfamiliar work. Dake's farmers will work their fields together. I understand why you are troubled. But I have seen what this island can become, and I will not leave it as I found it."
He looked along the table.
"You will not be left to find stone, hire builders and somehow make these works run yourselves. I shall provide materials and pay the men. I will lead the construction, teach the methods and see the first kilns and boilers working properly. Otho and the masters direct the work under me. Bring us the difficulties. We shall deal with them."
"There will be discomfort. You have my word that sound homes remain until their replacements are ready, and work done for me will be paid. In return, I expect you to carry out your part. Any man who deliberately hinders the work will answer to me."
Jon took his hand from the plans.
"Tomorrow we begin the preparations. I shall come to each village in turn and direct the work myself. Headmen, tell your people what has been decided. Have men who know the ground ready to meet me."
Ormond gathered his copies. Dake rose more slowly. Neither offered thanks, though both bowed before leaving. The netmaker waited for Tobin, asking about the sail lofts.
Jon dismissed the masters and officers, keeping Ethan, Arthur, Abel and the maester behind. The last clerk gathered his copies and closed the door. Abel opened the household accounts; the maester set Dragonstone's books beside them.
"Now give me the full reckoning," Jon said.
"Eighteen thousand dragons over the year from rents, market and harbour dues, anchorage, and the payments owed by your vassals," the maester said.
"With the clocks, the expected income is thirty thousand two hundred and forty," Abel continued. "Seventeen thousand four hundred and forty goes to ordinary expenses at our present strength. That leaves twelve thousand eight hundred, provided trade holds and the money is paid."
Ethan drew his chair nearer. "How much of it is in hand?"
"Three thousand eight hundred dragons free, after the moving bills and the sums already promised. Wages, provisions and existing orders are set apart. My lord has allowed twenty-eight hundred for the first works. A thousand remains in reserve."
Abel set out the approved purchases: the first kiln, mill wheel, harbour stores and approaches, the water supply and first row of houses, and Qavo's first timber and fittings.
"Those sums let us begin," he said. "The other kilns, the new salt boilers and the later streets will need further payments."
"And these are the rents under the present arrangements," the maester added. "When you take the farms into your own management, their rents cease and their wages begin."
"Set the old rents against the wages, seed and tools we shall pay for, and the crop we shall keep," Jon said. "I want that reckoning settled before the change."
The maester marked the farm account. Ethan kept his hand upon the island drawing.
"You are taking on too much. Begin with Blackburn and the first kiln. Let the others see something finished."
"The kiln needs a road. The houses need brick. The mill needs fittings we are buying because we have no forge large enough to supply them. Waiting upon each in turn would cost us years."
"And opening them together costs more before any earns its keep. I have seen works abandoned after men spent a summer digging them."
Abel drew his stool nearer.
"I have no quarrel with the work, my lord. I paid for what you built in the North and saw what it returned. But Ethan is right about the money. Today's orders are covered; after that, the receipts must keep pace. Eastcove's brick will go into your walls. That saves purchases, but brings no coin to pay the wagoner. The clocks must carry us until the other trades earn."
"Perrin has answered the eastern enquiries."
"The orders we hold are in this reckoning. Until enough of those merchants send fresh orders and money, we cannot build at the pace you want."
In the North, each new order had bought another bench, another pair of hands, steel for boys who drilled in leather. Here Jon could see the whole island's possibilities, and the money still came a clock at a time.
"I could spend ten years at this table and keep finding uses for the next payment," he said. "I want the works large enough to support themselves while we build the rest."
"Even with the eastern orders, there will be years of work," Abel said.
Arthur looked towards the ships upon the harbour sheet. "The expedition you spoke of on the mountain. Is that part of this?"
Ethan looked up.
"It is. I mean to go east when we have ships fit for it. We need more buyers, and masters who can teach the trades I want here. There is wealth beyond what this island can give us."
"A trading voyage?" Abel asked.
"In part. I shall put it before you when I have the accounts and charts."
Arthur watched him a little longer. "You have scarcely arrived."
"And I am not leaving tomorrow. But I mean to prepare."
Arthur would demand a destination. Jon had no proved route, and Qavo's new ships were still drawings. But the gold left in Valyria could keep yards building for years and pay skilled men while they trained others. Afterwards, the workshops and ships must earn their own keep. He wanted the treasure for the beginning.
Arthur would call it madness. Jon kept the name behind his teeth.
Abel touched the smaller reckoning. "An expedition will need fitting out too."
"It will. Nothing you are paying for today depends upon its return." Jon turned the mill plan towards Ethan. "These works begin. Bring me changed prices while I can still alter the orders. I will hear what must wait, but I will not put the whole island aside until I can afford to finish it."
"Then I will see the ground made ready," Ethan said.
"And I shall speak with William about the next deliveries," Abel said.
He gathered the household accounts while the maester took up Dragonstone's books. Ethan went with them to arrange the preparations with Otho. Jon sent for Denys and the captains; Arthur remained at his side. Marros and Hewyn joined them at the harbour drawing.
"Voss has had word of cargo changing boats beyond Driftmark," Jon said. "There are landings here that have escaped Tobin's dues. It may come to nothing, but keep a watch all the same. I want to know what puts into these coves and what waits offshore to meet it."
Denys looked to the masters of Stone Drum and Salt Wraith. "Take a consort each. Stone Drum keeps the northern round; Salt Wraith the southern. Learn the boats working those shores. If something strange comes in, mark her course and send word."
"Keep the usual rounds," Jon said. "Voss will tell you what his pilot saw. We are still finding out what passes through that landing. The men ashore are watching it quietly."
Hewyn showed Denys where his concealed men lay, and Marros pointed out the open patrol above them. Denys kept Black Tern near the harbour and put Voss in charge of the small boats needed along the cliffs.
"Report what you see," he told the captains. "Keep ordinary traffic moving. If we have cause to take a ship, you will have the order."
Jon dismissed the captains as the afternoon bell sounded. Below, the first carts were being called into the store court.
* * *
That afternoon Hessa crossed the lower yard with an empty creel. A door in the castle's western wall led to the cliff path and the fisher's stair. Her crab pots lay below it; she needed to empty them before the tide covered the lower steps.
She had passed her brother after the lord's meeting. Borren was taking Rollam to clear the western smokehouse for a boat due after dark. Her son had gone ahead with a coil of rope. She had called after him to mind the wet steps.
Today a northern spearman barred the doorway.
"You must turn back."
"My pots are below." Hessa shifted the creel upon her shoulder. "I need to reach them while I can."
"The way is closed. We have men watching the cove."
The cove lay beyond the western headland, hidden from the castle. Her pots were on the nearer rocks, at the foot of the stair.
"You can watch it without stopping me."
"This stair leads to the landing."
"Across the black shelf, when the tide is out. I have no need to cross it." She pointed past him. "Come down and I'll show you."
He glanced at his companion. Neither knew the shore; she could see it in their faces.
"I cannot let you through without Hewyn's leave."
"Then let us find someone who can. The water is coming in."
"Pease, keep the door." He went with her into the yard, where Marros met them beside the store court.
"What is it, Mallador?"
Hessa told him. Marros heard the spearman's account too, then looked towards the armoury.
"Lord Black ordered the watch. We will ask him what ground he meant it to cover."
He led them across the yard.
Lord Black sat beside Noll's bench, drawing a bearing with the worn part beside his paper. He pushed the white lock from his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked younger here than upon a horse.
"Noll, take that one to Bennard," he said. "Show him where it wore. I want the new shaft supported properly before you load it."
Marros spoke, and the boy put down his quill.
Hessa made a stiff curtsy. "My lord, your man has shut the way to my crab pots."
Jon looked at Mallador.
"The stair joins the cove path," the spearman said. "I did not know how far she could go beyond it."
"He sent me back without looking," Hessa added.
The young man flushed.
"I will look now. Marros, send Hewyn word that we are going to the fisher's stair."
Hessa followed him out, surprised enough to forget the curtsy. Ser Arthur joined them at the door. Mallador took her basket, then had to stand still while she freed a baited hook from his cloak.
At the western wall, Pease stood aside while Marros lifted the sagging door. Beyond it, a rope ran down steps hollowed by generations of wet feet. The newest length was pale; the oldest shed brown fibres when Hessa pulled it.
"Who mends this?" Jon asked.
"We do. When someone brings rope."
Arthur went first, testing the steps. Jon followed with his hand upon the sound length. Below the bend, the sea washed over the lowest shelves. Hessa showed them where the rope ended.
"The lower twelve drown twice a day." Hessa pointed to her pots on the nearer rocks, then farther west, where a low shelf joined them to the next headland. "That is the crossing to the cove. Once the tide covers it, no one can reach the landing from here."
Mallador looked from her pots to the crossing. Jon let him look.
"Send for a sound rope," he called up to Marros. "Once it is fixed, the fishers use this way when the tide permits. Put someone who knows it beside the watch."
"Myself or Old Jyck," Hessa said.
"Jyck drinks," Marros answered from above.
"He also knows when the sea comes in."
"He can do one at a time," Jon said. "Settle it with him."
Mallador helped Hessa empty the pots. Four crabs and an eel went into her creel. As she fastened the lid, Jon looked along the exposed shelf towards the headland.
"Can we reach the cove from here?"
"While the shelf is bare. We would have to come back by the upper path."
"Show me."
Arthur led them over the slippery shelf around the headland, until the castle disappeared. A narrow cove lay beyond, with a split rock at its mouth. Steps rose from the landing to a smokehouse, and a steep track climbed from there to the upper cliff path.
Hessa stopped beside an outcrop, in sight of the smokehouse door. She had meant to show them her pots.
"There it is, my lord. We had best go up before the water reaches us."
A shutter scraped open. Hessa turned so sharply that she stumbled against Mallador. When she looked back, Jon was watching her.
"Whose house?"
"An old smokehouse."
"Who owns it?"
She took the creel from Mallador and bent over its lid until Jon asked again.
"My brother's. Borren."
"Saltcliffe's headman?"
She nodded. The shutter closed. Hessa kept her eyes upon the knot beneath her thumb.
"Does he still cure fish here?"
"When there are fish to cure."
"And when there are boats to unload?"
"It is a sheltered landing. Men have used it all my life." She made herself look up. "He is our headman. You had him at your table this morning."
"I did. I asked him about the travellers brought ashore with armed men beside them."
"People pay for passage."
"Is that what they told you?"
"Borren told me."
Jon glanced at Arthur, then sent Mallador a little way back to watch the shelf. Hessa wished he had sent the knight too. Arthur's sword hung between her and the path.
"What comes into that house, Hessa?"
"Ask my brother."
"I have. Now I am asking you."
She pulled at the wet knot. All that foolish quarrelling at the door, and now she had brought the lord himself to Borren's landing.
"Wine," she said. "Oil. Casks brought up by men I have known since they were boys. Borren pays them to carry it. There is little enough work when the boats cannot fish."
"And the people?"
A woman beneath an overturned boat. Skirts pulled over raw ankles. Hessa had left bread and water beside her and gone home.
"I never saw Borren force anyone ashore."
Jon said nothing. She could hear Mallador's boots scrape upon the rock behind them.
"He is my brother," she said. "I came for my pots. I did not come to give you Borren."
"You need not accuse him of anything you have not seen. But I will find out what is happening here." Jon looked towards the house. "The watch will stay. When the next boat comes, my men will see what it brings."
"Tonight?"
The word had escaped before she could stop it. Jon turned back.
"Is a boat expected tonight?"
Hessa shook her head, then stopped. She had already answered him. Inside, her brother and Rollam would be moving the racks. Her son's rope had been for the landing.
"He took Rollam with him after your meeting."
"Who is Rollam?"
"My son. Seventeen." She had to swallow before she could go on. "Borren said a boat was due after dark. They came to clear the house."
Arthur shifted his weight. Hessa caught the movement and stepped towards Jon.
"His father died fighting the ironborn. Borren taught him the boats. He does whatever his uncle asks." She looked at Arthur's sword. "If your men go down there, my son will be among them."
"Then he must yield. Any man who does will be taken alive. I will give that order myself."
"Your men will hear it?"
"They will."
She searched his face. "And afterwards?"
"I will question him. And his uncle."
The shutter remained closed. Borren had told her those people paid for passage. If that was true, they could tell the lord themselves.
They returned by the upper path, past an old lime pit. The twenty-minute walk brought them to the castle's western door, with the cove long hidden behind the headland.
Jon sent Mallador to Hewyn with the orders for the watch, then turned to Hessa.
"I need someone with the watch who knows when a boat can cross those rocks. Will you go?"
"And point out my brother for them?"
"They know Borren. I need your knowledge of the water."
She thought of Mallador. He had carried her catch without complaint and flushed before the lord. Tonight he would be waiting with a spear where Rollam worked.
"You will come too?"
"When they send word."
"Then I will be there." She drew the creel against her. "You gave me your word about my son."
"I remember. Marros will pay for your time. Tell him when the watch must leave."
Hessa took her creel to Marros and asked where she should wait. Borren would tell her there was nothing to fear and send her away. This time she would be there when the boat came. Rollam would listen if she called.
* * *
Aries was writing beside Wylla when Jon returned late that afternoon. Patch lay across his boots, twitching at a dream. The boy had heard there would be men watching the cove after dark and asked whether he might carry a lamp.
"Gawen needs you here," Jon said. "You can help with the harness he cannot lift."
"He says I sort the straps wrong."
"Have him show you. He will want it ready when that arm is sound."
Aries bent reluctantly to his letter. He had written more about the mountain than the whole voyage south. Jon sat beside him and read the line about carrying dragonshell in their cloaks.
"Have you told Robb?" Aries asked.
"Not yet."
"He would have liked the caves."
Jon imagined Robb questioning Arthur about every great bone they passed. It had been strange to see so much without him.
"I shall ask him to come," he said. "When he can. I would like to show him the island."
"And Arya?"
Wylla looked up from her sewing. "Write to her too, or she will hear of the caves from someone else and think you forgot her."
"I have not forgotten her." Jon drew a clean sheet towards him. "Or Sansa."
Aries pushed his page closer, unsure how to describe the little skull beneath the shelf. They argued over its size until Wylla made them move their hands out of the lamplight so she could thread her needle.
"I wish we had seen one alive," Aries said.
Jon's pen stopped. For a moment he saw the great chamber filled, the sleeping creature's flank rising where their lanterns had found only bone.
"So do I."
Aries put that in his letter.
Later, Jon saw Wylla and Gawen through the open linen-room door. Her hand rested against the knight's sling.
"It is healing," Gawen said.
"I know." She smoothed the cloth without looking up. "I had thought I was done being frightened when someone went away."
"Your husband?"
"The war took him. My little boy was gone too, before they brought Jon."
Gawen's good hand moved towards hers, then stopped. Wylla took it herself.
Jon went quietly on. The fragments still lay across his desk. He moved the ink farther from the cloth and finished Robb's letter with the invitation. Afterwards he took up the red piece from the mountain. Its raised scales caught the lamplight beneath his thumb. He studied the broken edge, then reached for another piece.
* * *
Before dusk, Hessa showed Hewyn how high the water must rise for a laden boat to pass the split rock. He placed Mallador and Pease near the landing, his other men along the descending track, then joined her in the gorse above the smokehouse. Farther along the coast, the ordinary patrol kept its usual fire.
From Blackburn, Denys had sent Voss with two skiffs to wait beyond the cove's mouth for a signal from the cliff. The larger ships kept their ordinary rounds offshore.
Jon waited with Arthur in a room beside the castle's western postern. Tomas had the household ready in the lower yard.
"Ormond brought Ethan the guides' names himself," Arthur said.
"He wants the housing order read to his people when I come."
"He could have sent someone to ask. I think he means to watch the work himself."
"Then Otho will know where to find him."
Arthur smiled a little. "He will count every beam you send to Eastcove."
"Good. He can tell us if a carter delivers short."
Rain began after dark. A spearman came running through the postern, breathing hard and spattered to the knees.
"A boat off the western cove, my lord. Hewyn sent me."
Jon rose. "Has it come in?"
"Still outside the rocks. They have lowered the sail. Hessa says they are waiting for enough water to pass. Her brother is waiting at the smokehouse with his carriers."
"How many aboard?"
"I could not see. There is a lantern, but they keep it low."
"Tell Tomas to be ready to leave. Send for Lorren and his assistants, with blankets. Then come back here."
The man left. Arthur closed the door and stood guard while Jon crossed to the window. Hugin and Munin sheltered beneath its stone overhang. Jon took Munin upon his wrist and lifted her into the rain.
He sat upon the window seat and closed his eyes.
The cold struck first. Wind caught beneath Munin's wings and carried him beyond the wall. He followed the cliffs around the headland until the cove opened below, black between pale lines of surf.
He found the boat by its lantern. Two men held it off the rocks with their oars. A third stood aft. The fourth raised the light and pulled a corner of sailcloth from the cargo.
There were people beneath it. A woman sat with a child against her breast. Farther forward, a young man in a dark cloak tried to stand. The lantern bearer caught his arm and forced him down.
Jon circled, counting again. Four crew; three passengers. The woman and child were wedged between a bale and the gunwale, with nowhere to go if armed men climbed aboard.
He brought Munin lower, but the youth's hands remained hidden. The lantern swung towards her as the boat rolled. Jon caught her balance and turned her towards the cliff.
Arthur's hand was upon his shoulder when he opened his eyes.
"Four crew. Two at the oars, one aft, one carrying the lantern," Jon said. "Three others: a woman, a child and a youth. The lantern man would not let the youth stand. I could not see his hands."
Arthur took his cloak from the chair. "Voss can take her as she comes in."
"Not with them trapped among the cargo. We take her at the landing, once they are off." Jon stood, steadying himself against the window jamb. "And we put men close enough to reach that youth. I do not like the way he was being held."
The runner was waiting outside when Arthur opened the door.
"Go ahead of us," Jon told him. "Tell Hewyn to let the people aboard come ashore before he moves. Mallador is to watch whoever brings the passengers up. Pease is to have men ready to get them clear. I want them out of reach of a knife."
"And the boat, my lord?"
"Keep Voss's signal ready. Once we move, he must close the mouth at once. Two men with oars will not wait for us to finish."
The spearman repeated the orders, then hurried through the postern. Jon joined Tomas in the yard. Lorren arrived with Denner and two men carrying his supplies. Jon ordered dry rooms prepared for anyone they brought back, then led the household out.
They followed the upper path west through rain, slowing where runoff crossed the track. After twenty minutes they passed the old lime pit. A sentry brought them down to Hewyn above the cove.
Below lay the smokehouse and the water beyond. Hessa crouched beside a rock, her shawl over her hair. She looked first at Jon, then at his men's swords.
"Have your men been told about Rollam?"
"They have been told to take anyone who yields." Jon turned to Hewyn. "Make certain every man hears it."
Hewyn nodded. "Your runner reached us. Pease has two men with him. Mallador is watching the steps from the landing. Borren has four carriers by the house."
"The boat?"
"Coming in."
Hessa touched Jon's sleeve. A sliver of light showed at the smokehouse window.
"That calls them in," she whispered. "He opens it twice when the boat is beneath the house."
Jon looked at her. She let go of his sleeve and drew her shawl tighter.
"He told me it saved someone walking down to see."
Hewyn showed Tomas the track leading up from the smokehouse. Hessa pointed to a narrower path branching towards the lime pit.
"That joins the upper path too. If my son runs, he might try it."
"Tomas, hold it," Jon said. "Take six. Call on them to yield before you close."
Tomas left with his men. Hewyn went down to join the party on the main track, while Lorren and his assistants waited with Jon's reserve. Arthur crouched beside Jon behind the rock.
Below them, the shutter opened twice.
The landing lay hidden beneath the cliff lip. Men appeared on the upper steps with bundles, entering the smokehouse and returning empty-handed. Hessa watched without speaking.
At last the woman came up with the child clinging to her neck. Jon leaned forward. The youth followed, his cloak drawn high, the lantern bearer gripping him above the elbow. A second sailor came behind them.
"There," Jon murmured to Arthur. "The man holding him."
A thin whistle sounded beside the house and was repeated up the track. The lantern jerked round. Before Hewyn's men reached the yard, its bearer had dragged the youth against him.
Jon turned to the guard beside their signal lamp. "Now."
The man uncovered it towards the cove mouth. Voss's answering light showed beyond the split rock, then moved as the skiffs closed in.
Pease came out from beside the smokehouse. He drew the woman and child behind the wall while his two men put themselves between her and the sailors. Mallador was already running towards the youth.
"Drop it!" he shouted.
Hessa rose. Down by the door, Borren swung at Mallador. The spearman staggered against a cask.
"He's collared! Look at his neck!"
The lantern fell. Jon saw Borren turn, then Hewyn's men crowded into the yard and hid them from view. A man cried out. Hessa started down the track, and Jon caught her sleeve.
"Stay here."
"My son is down there."
"And men with spears who will not know you in the dark. Wait until the path is held."
She pulled once, then stopped. Someone shouted for a light below. Jon kept his reserve above; Hewyn had men enough in the cramped yard, and the upper path must stay guarded.
Tomas returned first, water running from his shield.
"Two taken on the goat path. One has an island guard's badge beneath his cloak. My men hold them at the lime pit."
"Borren?"
"No."
They waited until Pease came up from the landing.
"Hewyn has the house, my lord. Three strangers inside, alive. Mallador is hurt."
Jon sent two household men to help guard Tomas's prisoners at the lime pit. The rest descended with him, Arthur at his side. Hessa followed under escort, and Lorren carried his bag ahead.
Shale shifted beneath Jon's boots. Below, lanternlight fell upon men kneeling beside the smokehouse. Lorren and Denner went straight to Mallador.
Blood darkened the sailcloth round Mallador's upper arm. Pease knelt beside him while Lorren checked the wound. When Mallador tried to rise, Jon held out a hand.
"Report from there."
"The master was the one holding the boy," Mallador said. "I saw the iron at his neck when they came up. Hands tied too. I waited until all three were clear of the steps, as you ordered. Then I whistled."
"He heard you."
"Aye. Drew his knife before I could reach him. Borren struck me as I came in. I shouted about the collar, and he looked back at the boy." Mallador glanced towards the prisoners. "Then he knocked the knife aside. Gave me room to take the master, though he cut me doing it."
"The woman and child are unhurt," Pease said. "We kept them behind the wall until it was over."
Lorren pulled the cloth firm. Mallador stopped speaking until he could breathe easily again.
"The two oarsmen?" Jon asked Hewyn.
"Master and mate here. Two men stayed with the boat. Voss is after them. Borren and three carriers by the wall; the fourth is the man Tomas caught with the guard."
Borren knelt beside an overturned cask. Blood ran from his lip. His cap lay in the mud between his knees.
"He told me three travellers," he said. "He brought a slave."
The Lysene master answered with abuse. Arthur moved him away from the door. Lorren left an assistant with Mallador; he and Denner followed Jon inside.
Oil from a broken jar shone upon the floor. Lorren had an assistant hold a lantern clear of the spill, then wrapped a blanket around the woman and child. Faded blue streaked her greying hair. The youth sat apart, wrists bound in his lap. Denner knelt to cut the cord.
The iron at his neck was too tight for comfort. Jon saw the raw skin above its edge when the boy turned towards Arthur's pale sword and shrank back.
"We will have the collar opened at the castle," Jon told Lorren.
The youth spoke rapidly. Jon caught enough of the Lysene words to understand that he was asking what would happen to him, not enough to answer safely in the same speech. He tried High Valyrian instead, slowly, and asked his name.
"Laro."
Jon repeated it. Freed of the cord, Laro drew his hands against his chest and began to shake.
The woman spoke next, pointing to the purse sewn beneath her dress. Hessa understood part of it.
"They paid for passage," she said. "She says they paid him."
"They keep the purse," Jon told Lorren. "Take all three back with an escort when you can move them. The maester can hear their accounts at the castle."
Outside, Hessa stopped beside Borren. A spearman let her through at Jon's nod, but kept the headman's bound hands in sight.
"You came with him?" Borren asked her.
"Where is Rollam?"
"Mother."
One of the three carriers kneeling by the far wall lifted his head, hair plastered to his forehead. Hessa went to him so quickly that the spearman reached for her shoulder.
"Let me see him."
Jon motioned the man aside. She knelt in the mud and took her son's face between her hands. Rollam tried to turn away, but she held him until she had looked at both cheeks. Then her hands went to the rope.
"Leave his bonds," Jon said.
She looked up. "Forgive him, my lord. He was only following his uncle. Borren told him to help."
"He helped unload this boat. He comes with the others."
"His father died in the Greyjoy war. Borren has looked after him since he was little. When he tells him to do something—"
"I will question your son myself." Jon held her gaze. "You will not untie him."
Hessa's fingers loosened. Rollam bent his head until it rested against her shoulder. She held him there while the guard waited beside them.
Voss's horn sounded from the landing.
The oarsmen had pushed off at the first shout, leaving master and mate ashore. At the split rock, Voss blocked them with one skiff while the other drew alongside. One sailor jumped for the rocks and broke his ankle. The other surrendered when Voss's men caught the gunwale.
Jon went as far as the last safe step. Voss came to the near side of the boat and lowered his voice.
"There was another vessel outside the point. Hobb saw her light as we closed upon this one. Between squalls we caught a little of her sail turning north. Then the light went dark."
"Could it have been one of ours?"
"Too far off to name her. I kept the skiffs here. By the time these two yielded, the rain had hidden her."
Jon looked beyond the split rock. Nothing showed upon the water now.
"Report to Denys when you reach Blackburn. He will compare it with the ships upon that round. Give him the time and what Hobb saw."
Voss nodded. If the vessel had been waiting for this boat, someone might already be carrying news of the raid away from Dragonstone.
Jon turned to Voss. "Put our men aboard. The boat and her cargo are seized. Bring her into Blackburn and set a guard over her."
Voss indicated the two bound sailors beside the skiff. One sat with his injured leg stretched before him. "And these two?"
"Send them to the castle with the rest. Lorren will see to that ankle."
Jon climbed back to the smokehouse. Hessa was still beside Rollam. When Hewyn ordered the prisoners up, she rose with her son and tried to take his arm.
"Walk behind the guards," Jon told her. "You come to the castle too."
Hewyn kept the sailors apart from Borren and his carriers for the climb. Lorren supported Mallador's arm; his assistants brought Laro wrapped in a blanket, the woman and child following. The boy kept one hand beneath the collar, trying to lift its weight from his throat.
They returned by the upper path. At the lime pit they joined the escort guarding the two men Tomas had caught. Jon recognised the island badge beneath the guard's wet cloak. The man lowered his face when Jon stopped before him.
"Take that off him."
A man of the island garrison tore the badge free. Hewyn put two northerners on either side of the prisoner and sent him ahead.
Lanterns moved through the rain. Hessa kept close behind Rollam's guards.
* * *
Wylla met them inside the western postern with servants and dry blankets. Lorren took the three strangers to the fire in the adjoining hall while Jon followed the prisoners towards the cells.
At the stair, Hewyn had irons waiting. Manacles replaced the wet ropes. Rollam flinched when the clasp shut; Hessa pushed forward, but a guard barred her way.
"Keep them apart," Jon said. "I want no word passing between them before I question them. Your own men on the doors, Hewyn."
"Aye, my lord."
The wounded sailor was carried down with his ankle splinted and wrists chained. Borren watched each man taken below. His shaking hands rattled the chain.
"Rollam," Hessa called.
Her son looked back as the guards turned him towards the stair. She tried to follow.
Jon caught Hewyn's eye. "Hessa as well. A separate cell."
She stopped. "My lord?"
"You will be questioned with them."
"I showed you the landing. I went with your men."
"You knew what your brother used that house for. You kept silent until I pressed you." Jon stepped out of the guards' way. "I mean to find out how much you knew."
"I only wanted my boy safe."
"He is here. And you will remain here until I have your answers."
She drew her wrists against her breast, then let the guard fasten the irons. The sound brought Rollam round on the steps.
"Mother?"
"Go with them," she said, though her voice scarcely carried.
Hewyn led her down after him. Jon waited until Borren and the last of the carriers had followed. Ten men and Hessa, all in irons. The guards shut the stair door.
Arthur stood beside him, rainwater dripping from the hem of his grey-white cloak.
"You think the ship offshore was waiting for them?" he asked.
"It may have been. Voss could not name her." Jon looked towards the closed door. "But his pilot had already seen this Lysene taking cargo from a larger ship. Borren had men ready to unload him tonight, even after I questioned him about that landing. And one of our guards was there."
"Someone may have told him it was safe."
"I mean to find out who."
Arthur followed him into the small room beside the stair. A brazier glowed beneath the window. Jon unfastened his cloak and laid it across the back of a bench. His fingers were stiff with cold.
"You think there are more landings?" Arthur asked.
"I think we have caught the men who unload one boat. I want to know who fills it, who buys the cargo, and where they meant to take that boy."
Boots sounded in the passage. Ethan came through the doorway with Marros behind him.
"My lord—"
"You knew nothing of this?"
Ethan stopped. His gaze moved from Jon to Arthur.
"I knew men had used the landing to avoid the harbour dues. I told you that. I sent men to look when the complaints first came."
"And?"
"An empty path. No boat, no cargo, and no one willing to give them a name. We only got those names from Borren this week." His voice had sharpened. "I cannot put a watch upon every rock along the coast. I have kept this island for you for years, Jon. I did not sit idle."
Arthur straightened. His hand settled upon his sword belt, and Ethan saw it.
Jon walked round the bench towards his castellan.
"A smuggling ring a short walk from my castle. Saltcliffe's headman involved. One of your guards caught running with them." Jon stopped close enough that Ethan had to look down at him. "And slavers, Ethan."
"Slavers?"
"A boy brought ashore with his hands bound and an iron collar round his neck. Their master drew a knife on him when our men moved in."
Ethan's mouth tightened. "If you think I would knowingly allow—"
"I am asking how they managed it under your watch. Borren sat at my table this morning. I was trusting him to prepare Saltcliffe for the work. How many others have we trusted?"
Marros held out the badge. "Orrick was the guard. Tomas caught him on the goat path with one of the carriers."
Ethan stared at him. "He has served here eleven years."
"Then you can tell me who put him on that watch."
The castellan turned back to Jon. For several breaths neither moved. Ethan's jaw worked, but he made no further defence. He was the first to lower his eyes.
"I will not let it happen again, my lord."
Jon sighed. He was cold through, and the first men would gather for the works in a few hours.
"We will deal with this tomorrow. Let them stew in the dungeons tonight." He turned as Hewyn returned from the stair. "Keep them apart, with our men guarding them. Ethan, be here when I question them in the morning."
"As you command."
Arthur's hand left his belt. Jon took up his cloak and went back to the postern hall.
Wylla had the little girl wrapped in a dry blanket beside her mother. Lorren knelt before Laro, examining the skin beneath the collar. At Jon's approach the boy drew the blanket closer about his shoulders.
"Wylla, find them warm rooms and something to eat. Dry clothes as well. They are to be looked after." Jon turned to Lorren. "Have that iron off him tonight. See to his neck and check the others."
"I have sent for a smith," Lorren said.
"Stay with him while it is done. No one is to press them for their story tonight. I will speak with them tomorrow."
Wylla led the woman and child inside. Jon waited until Lorren had settled Laro beside the fire, then left them to their work.
By morning the headmen would be preparing their people, Otho would need him at the works, and Saltcliffe's headman would still be in a cell. Already this business was taking time he had meant to spend building. If Borren and the boatmaster served others, those men could reach into the very villages he was depending upon.
He would find out how far it went and root it out before it held up everything he had begun. Two years had seemed little enough that morning. Time was already running out.