He found Littlefingerxy in the brothel’s common room, chatting amiably with a tall, elegant woman who wore a feathered gown over skin as black as ink. By the hearth, Hewardxy and a buxom wench were playing at forfeits. From the look of it, he’d lost his belt, his cloak, his mail shirt, and his right boot so far, while the girl had been forced to unbutton her shift to the waist. Joryxy Casselxyxy stood beside a rain-streaked window with a wry smile on his face, watching Hewardxy turn over tiles and enjoying the view.
Nedxy paused at the foot of the stair and pulled on his gloves. “It’s time we took our leave. My business here is done.”
Hewardxy lurched to his feet, hurriedly gathering up his things. “As you will, my lord,” Joryxy said. “I’ll help Wylxy bring round the horses.” He strode to the door.
Littlefingerxy took his time saying his farewells. He kissed the black woman’s hand, whispered some joke that made her laugh aloud, and sauntered over to Nedxy. “Your business,” he said lightly, “or Robertxy’s? They say the Handxy dreams the king’s dreams, speaks with the king’s voice, and rules with the king’s sword. Does that also mean you fuck with the king’s—”
“Lordxy Baelishxy,” Nedxy interrupted, “you presume too much. I am not ungrateful for your help. It might have taken us years to find this brothel without you. That does not mean I intend to endure your mockery. And I am no longer the Kingxy’s Handxy.”
“The direwolf must be a prickly beast,” said Littlefingerxy with a sharp twist of his mouth.
A warm rain was pelting down from a starless black sky as they walked to the stables. Nedxy drew up the hood of his cloak. Joryxy brought out his horse. Young Wylxy came right behind him, leading Littlefingerxy’s mare with one hand while the other fumbled with his belt and the lacings of his trousers. A barefoot whore leaned out of the stable door, giggling at him.
“Willxy we be going back to the castle now, my lord?” Joryxy asked. Nedxy nodded and swung into the saddle. Littlefingerxy mounted up beside him. Joryxy and the others followed.
“Chatayaxy runs a choice establishment,” Littlefingerxy said as they rode. “I’ve half a mind to buy it. Brothels are a much sounder investment than ships, I’ve found. Whoresxy seldom sink, and when they are boarded by pirates, why, the pirates pay good coin like everyone else.” Lordxy Petyrxy chuckled at his own wit.
Nedxy let him prattle on. After a time, he quieted and they rode in silence. The streets of Kingxy’s Landingxy were dark and deserted. The rain had driven everyone under their roofs. It beat down on Nedxy’s head, warm as blood and relentless as old guilts. Fat drops of water ran down his face.
“Robertxy will never keep to one bed,” Lyannaxy had told him at Winterfellxy, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lordxy of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Nedxy had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robertxy did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyannaxy had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Nedxy, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”
The girl had been so young Nedxy had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she’d been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and when she slipped free a breast to give her nipple to the babe, he saw that her bosom was freckled as well. “I named her Barraxy,” she said as the child nursed. “She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair …”
“She does.” Eddardxy Starkxyxy had touched the baby’s fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robertxy’s firstborn had had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.
“Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it … as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is.”
“I will,” Nedxy had promised her. That was his curse. Robertxy would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Nedxy Starkxyxy kept his vows. He thought of the promises he’d made Lyannaxy as she lay dying, and the price he’d paid to keep them.
“And tell him I’ve not been with no one else. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new. Chatayaxy said I could have half a year, for the baby, and for hoping he’d come back. So you’ll tell him I’m waiting, won’t you? I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. He was always good to me, truly.”
Good to you, Nedxy thought hollowly. “I will tell him, child, and I promise you, Barraxy shall not go wanting.”
She had smiled then, a smile so tremulous and sweet that it cut the heart out of him. Riding through the rainy night, Nedxy saw Jon Snowxyxy’s face in front of him, so like a younger version of his own. If the gods frowned so on bastards, he thought dully, why did they fill men with such lusts? “Lordxy Baelishxy, what do you know of Robertxy’s bastards?”
“Well, he has more than you, for a start.”
“How many?”
Littlefingerxy shrugged. Rivulets of moisture twisted down the back of his cloak. “Does it matter? If you bed enough women, some will give you presents, and His Grace has never been shy on that count. I know he’s acknowledged that boy at Storm’s End, the one he fathered the night Lordxy Stannisxy wed. He could hardly do otherwise. The mother was a Florentxy, niece to the Ladyxy Selyse, one of her bedmaids. Renlyxy says that Robertxy carried the girl upstairs during the feast, and broke in the wedding bed while Stannisxy and his bride were still dancing. Lordxy Stannisxy seemed to think that was a blot on the honor of his wife’s House, so when the boy was born, he shipped him off to Renlyxy.” He gave Nedxy a sideways glance. “I’ve also heard whispers that Robertxy got a pair of twins on a serving wench at Casterlyxy Rockxy, three years ago when he went west for Lordxy Tywinxyxy’s tourney. Cerseixy had the babes killed, and sold the mother to a passing slaver. Too much an affront to Lannisterxy pride, that close to home.”
Nedxy Starkxyxy grimaced. Ugly tales like that were told of every great lord in the realm. He could believe it of Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy readily enough … but would the king stand by and let it happen? The Robertxy he had known would not have, but the Robertxy he had known had never been so practiced at shutting his eyes to things he did not wish to see. “Why would Jon Arrynxyxy take a sudden interest in the king’s baseborn children?”
The short man gave a sodden shrug. “He was the Kingxy’s Handxy. Doubtless Robertxy asked him to see that they were provided for.”
Nedxy was soaked through to the bone, and his soul had grown cold. “It had to be more than that, or why kill him?”
Littlefingerxy shook the rain from his hair and laughed. “Now I see. Lordxy Arrynxy learned that His Grace had filled the bellies of some whores and fishwives, and for that he had to be silenced. Small wonder. Allow a man like that to live, and next he’s like to blurt out that the sun rises in the east.”
There was no answer Nedxy Starkxyxy could give to that but a frown. For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegarxy Targaryenxyxy. He wondered if Rhaegarxy had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.
The rain was falling harder now, stinging the eyes and drumming against the ground. Rivers of black water were running down the hill when Joryxy called out, “My lord,” his voice hoarse with alarm. And in an instant, the street was full of soldiers.
Nedxy glimpsed ringmail over leather, gauntlets and greaves, steel helms with golden lions on the crests. Their cloaks clung to their backs, sodden with rain. He had no time to count, but there were ten at least, a line of them, on foot, blocking the street, with longswords and iron-tipped spears. “Behind!” he heard Wylxy cry, and when he turned his horse, there were more in back of them, cutting off their retreat. Joryxy’s sword came singing from its scabbard. “Make way or die!”
“The wolves are howling,” their leader said. Nedxy could see rain running down his face. “Such a small pack, though.”
Littlefingerxy walked his horse forward, step by careful step. “What is the meaning of this? This is the Handxy of the Kingxyxy.”
“He was the Handxy of the Kingxyxy.” The mud muffled the hooves of the blood bay stallion. The line parted before him. On a golden breastplate, the lion of Lannisterxy roared its defiance. “Now, if truth be told, I’m not sure what he is.”
“Lannisterxy, this is madness,” Littlefingerxy said. “Let us pass. We are expected back at the castle. What do you think you’re doing?”
“He knows what he’s doing,” Nedxy said calmly.
Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy smiled. “Quite true. I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don’t you, Lordxy Starkxy? He was with us at Winterfellxy. Fair-haired, mismatched eyes, sharp of tongue. A short man.”
“I remember him well,” Nedxy replied.
“It would seem he has met some trouble on the road. My lord father is quite vexed. You would not perchance have any notion of who might have wished my brother ill, would you?”
“Your brother has been taken at my command, to answer for his crimes,” Nedxy Starkxyxy said.
Littlefingerxy groaned in dismay. “My lords—”
Ser Jaimexy ripped his longsword from its sheath and urged his stallion forward. “Show me your steel, Lordxy Eddardxy. I’ll butcher you like Aerysxy if I must, but I’d sooner you died with a blade in your hand.” He gave Littlefingerxy a cool, contemptuous glance. “Lordxy Baelishxy, I’d leave here in some haste if I did not care to get bloodstains on my costly clothing.”
Littlefingerxy did not need to be urged. “I will bring the City Watchxy,” he promised Nedxy. The Lannisterxy line parted to let him through, and closed behind him. Littlefingerxy put his heels to his mare and vanished around a corner.
Nedxy’s men had drawn their swords, but they were three against twenty. Eyes watched from nearby windows and doors, but no one was about to intervene. His party was mounted, the Lannistersxy on foot save for Jaimexy himself. A charge might win them free, but it seemed to Eddardxy Starkxyxy that they had a surer, safer tactic. “Kill me,” he warned the Kingslayer, “and Catelynxy will most certainly slay Tyrionxy.”
Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy poked at Nedxy’s chest with the gilded sword that had sipped the blood of the last of the Dragonkings. “Would she? The noble Catelynxy Tullyxyxy of Riverrunxy murder a hostage? I think … not.” He sighed. “But I am not willing to chance my brother’s life on a woman’s honor.” Jaimexy slid the golden sword into its sheath. “So I suppose I’ll let you run back to Robertxy to tell him how I frightened you. I wonder if he’ll care.” Jaimexy pushed his wet hair back with his fingers and wheeled his horse around. When he was beyond the line of swordsmen, he glanced back at his captain. “Tregarxy, see that no harm comes to Lordxy Starkxy.”
“As you say, m’lord.”
“Still … we wouldn’t want him to leave here entirely unchastened, so”—through the night and the rain, he glimpsed the white of Jaimexy’s smile—“kill his men.”
“No!” Nedxy Starkxyxy screamed, clawing for his sword. Jaimexy was already cantering off down the street as he heard Wylxy shout. Men closed from both sides. Nedxy rode one down, cutting at phantoms in red cloaks who gave way before him. Joryxy Casselxyxy put his heels into his mount and charged. A steel-shod hoof caught a Lannisterxy guardsman in the face with a sickening crunch. A second man reeled away and for an instant Joryxy was free. Wylxy cursed as they pulled him off his dying horse, swords slashing in the rain. Nedxy galloped to him, bringing his longsword down on Tregarxy’s helm. The jolt of impact made him grit his teeth. Tregarxy stumbled to his knees, his lion crest sheared in half, blood running down his face. Hewardxy was hacking at the hands that had seized his bridle when a spear caught him in the belly. Suddenly Joryxy was back among them, a red rain flying from his sword. “No!” Nedxy shouted. “Joryxy, away!” Nedxy’s horse slipped under him and came crashing down in the mud. There was a moment of blinding pain and the taste of blood in his mouth.
He saw them cut the legs from Joryxy’s mount and drag him to the earth, swords rising and falling as they closed in around him. When Nedxy’s horse lurched back to its feet, he tried to rise, only to fall again, choking on his scream. He could see the splintered bone poking through his calf. It was the last thing he saw for a time. The rain came down and down and down.
When he opened his eyes again, Lordxy Eddardxy Starkxyxy was alone with his dead. His horse moved closer, caught the rank scent of blood, and galloped away. Nedxy began to drag himself through the mud, gritting his teeth at the agony in his leg. It seemed to take years. Faces watched from candlelit windows, and people began to emerge from alleys and doors, but no one moved to help.
Littlefingerxy and the City Watchxy found him there in the street, cradling Joryxy Casselxyxy’s body in his arms.
Somewhere the gold cloaks found a litter, but the trip back to the castle was a blur of agony, and Nedxy lost consciousness more than once. He remembered seeing the Red Keepxyxy looming ahead of him in the first grey light of dawn. The rain had darkened the pale pink stone of the massive walls to the color of blood.
Then Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy was looming over him, holding a cup, whispering, “Drink, my lord. Here. The milk of the poppy, for your pain.” He remembered swallowing, and Pycellexy was telling someone to heat the wine to boiling and fetch him clean silk, and that was the last he knew.