“Go? Look at you! You cough, you tremble, you are thin and weak. Where will you be going?”
“To the castle. My bed is there, and my son.”
“And the red woman,” Salladhor Saan said suspiciously. “She is in the castle also.”
“Her too.” Davos slid the dirk back into its sheath.
“You are an onion smuggler, what do you know of skulkings and stabbings? And you are ill, you cannot even hold the dirk. Do you know what will be happening to you, if you are caught? While we were burning on the river, the queen was burning traitors.
Davos was unsurprised.
“Just so, and burned them, as she will burn you. If you kill the red woman, they will burn you for revenge, and if you fail to kill her, they will burn you for the trying. She will sing and you will scream, and then you will die. And you have only just come back to life!”
“And this is why,” said Davos. “To do this thing. To make an end of Melisandre of Asshai and all her works. Why else would the sea have spit me out? You know Blackwater Bay as well as I do, Salla. No sensible captain would ever take his ship through the spears of the merling king and risk ripping out his bottom.
“A wind,” insisted Salladhor Saan loudly, “an ill wind, is all. A wind drove her too far to the south.”
“And who sent the wind? Salla, the Mother spoke to me.”
The old Lyseni blinked at him. “Your mother is dead…”
“
“
Salladhor Saan pushed himself to his feet. “You are no true friend, I am thinking. When you are dead, who will be bringing your ashes and bones back to your lady wife and telling her that she has lost a husband and four sons? Only sad old Salladhor Saan. But so be it, brave ser knight, go rushing to your grave. I will gather your bones in a sack and give them to the sons you leave behind, to wear in little bags around their necks.” He waved an angry hand, with rings on every finger. “Go, go, go, go, go.”
Davos did not want to leave like this. “Salla—”
“
He went.
His walk up from the
When he reached the castle gates, he found them shut as well. Davos pounded on the iron-studded wood with his fist. When there was no answer, he kicked at it, again and again. Finally a crossbowman appeared atop the barbican, peering down between two towering gargoyles. “Who goes there?”
He craned his head back and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ser Davos Seaworth, to see His Grace.”
“Are you drunk? Go away and stop that pounding.”
Salladhor Saan had warned him. Davos tried a different tack. “Send for my son, then. Devan, the king’s squire.”
The guard frowned. “Who did you say you were?”
“Davos,” he shouted. “The onion knight.”
The head vanished, to return a moment later. “Be off with you. The onion knight died on the river. His ship burned.”
“His ship burned,” Davos agreed, “but he lived, and here he stands. Is Jate still captain of the gate?”
“Who?”
“Jate Blackberry. He knows me well enough.”
“I never heard of him. Most like he’s dead.”
“Lord Chyttering, then.”
“That one I know. He burned on the Blackwater.”
“Hookface Will? Hal the Hog?”
“Dead and dead,” the crossbowman said, but his face betrayed a sudden doubt. “You wait there.” He vanished again.
Davos waited.
Suddenly the crossbowman was back. “Go round to the sally port and they’ll admit you.”
Davos did as he was bid. The guards who ushered him inside were strangers to him. They carried spears, and on their breasts they wore the fox-and-flowers sigil of House Florent. They escorted him not to the Stone Drum, as he’d expected, but under the arch of the Dragon’s Tail and down to Aegon’s Garden. “Wait here,” their sergeant told him.
“Does His Grace know that I’ve returned?” asked Davos.
“Bugger all if I know. Wait, I said.” The man left, taking his spearmen with him.
Aegon’s Garden had a pleasant piney smell to it, and tall dark trees rose on every side. There were wild roses as well, and towering thorny hedges, and a boggy spot where cranberries grew.
Then he heard a faint ringing of bells, and a child’s giggle, and suddenly the fool Patchface popped from the bushes, shambling along as fast as he could go with the Princess Shireen hot on his heels. “You come back now,” she was shouting after him. “Patches, you come back.”
When the fool saw Davos, he jerked to a sudden halt, the bells on his antlered tin helmet going
He had turned to cough into his gloved hand when another small shape crashed out of the hedge and bowled right into him, knocking him off his feet.
The boy went down as well, but he was up again almost at once. “What are you doing here?” he demanded as he brushed himself off. Jet-black hair fell to his collar, and his eyes were a startling blue. “You shouldn’t get in my way when I’m running.”
“No,” Davos agreed. “I shouldn’t.” Another fit of coughing seized him as he struggled to his knees.
“Are you unwell?” The boy took him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “Should I summon the maester?”
Davos shook his head. “A cough. It will pass.”