Ch. 2 - Old Places

Rula

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Silver Hill was an uglier town than I expected it to be. Sounds pretty, but mining's an ugly job, I suppose, and the town showed it. Tailings piles everywhere and miners in piss-poor moods. I wanted to turn tail and leave soon as we was in the place, but we had a job to do. Azeline lost her confidence soon's she was in the middle of civilization again and wasn't sure where to start, so we all prodded her get a feel for the local attitudes in a tavern. It could be the rest of us were wantin' a drink at that point, too, so we found ourselves the Squeaky Cart Tavern. The temperature lowered once we were inside, though, since none of us looked a thing like a miner. Conversations went quiet and we all sat down and had ale. Well, those of us with a lick of sense had ale; Azeline asked for wine, and could barely choke down a couple of sips, and that was with a chunk of bread.

It didn't seem like we were going to be able to hear much with everyone keepin' to themselves, so Quaynlis started singing a song. It was a filthy little ditty, and that was well-received, and everyone warmed up a bit more when Azeline said she wanted to learn to gamble. Mostly, she lost herself some money, which I suppose was a fine plan for making friends. Soon enough, one of the miners was tellin' her the trouble, how the silver was all out, and the town wouldn't sustain in the same way it had before. There weren't much to say after that, and we left the tavern in a drizzle, figuring we'd better get ourselves a place to stay for the night, and a few gentlemen came out from the alley and tried to relieve us of our money. There were as many of them as us, which meant that they were outclassed and didn't even know it. My sword is like an extension of myself, and I had it in my hand before any of them could even get to me. There were two close by and I swiped my sword across the first one's throat and jabbed at the next, and by that time, my friends had made short work of the others. Our attackers ran, well, all of 'em excepting the one on the ground with his throat slit, and we continued on our way.

First inn we went to was called “M'Lady's Chamber,” and a posh man who introduced himself as Gorice made it clear he didn't think we could pay. Granted, we didn't look like nobs, but it seems they don't get too many travelers Gorice would find acceptable. He didn't like it much either when Quaynlis, with a perfectly straight face, asked “How did a lady of quality such as yourself end up in Silver Hill?” He suggested we try the Silver Squirrel instead, and we weren't of a mind to argue. The Silver Squirrel was a nice enough place too, and more our speed downstairs, with pipe music and rowdy singing. It was set to be a fine night until Azeline ordered dinner enough for two people just to feed her dog. None of us could stop her in time, and it was clear there weren't much goodwill to be had from the townspeople after that. Quaynlis sighed, seeming a bit put off after talking so much about finding a pretty girl or two for the night. Then he got this little smile, and said he was thinking he'd like to go to bed, and would Slaange like to go to bed too? I tried not to choke on my ale as Slaange went a little pink in the ears and agreed, and they went upstairs.

Now, it's not as if I don't know my brother's preferences. He's never looked twice at a girl, not even when we were younger and first learning just what it was that boys and girls got up to with each other. And I'm not saying it bothers me any, the idea of one man getting his pleasure in another man, but when it's your own brother, you don't really want to know all the details. A story or two, yes, but you don't want to hear him in the next room rolling about and groaning, and you certainly don't want Azeline staring at you with those big wide eyes and asking if you think they're all right. Quaynlis is an attractive man and I'm happy for Slaange, truly I am, but it sours the mood a bit to listen in and try to make excuses. “Wrestling, Miz Ivy,” I said at last as I stripped down for my bath. “That's what they're doing. Practicing.”

“We should do that too,” she said, and I just sank into the hot water to pretend that I didn't exist.

In the morning, I avoided Slaange's eyes so I wouldn't think about it all, and if it hurt his feelings any, it served him right for what I'd had to go to sleep to the night before. Azeline decided she had to talk to someone who might know for sure if the mine was drying up, so she went to talk animal care with the teamsters. She helped settle a mule that kicked out at Arun, and once she got comfy with the animal handlers, one of 'em told her that there was still silver underground, but it got too hot and the air too foul that deep in the mines, and they couldn't bring it out.

That seemed to settle the question, and we were glad to leave the mining town. Quaynlis, though, had different plans than going right back to Lord Gardener and sharing the news. He said we would be going by Blackbane Hall, or the ruins of it, where the Gardeners used to live before they reclaimed the Gardener heritage. None of us were keen to get back, and the way Quaynlis told the story made it sound awfully romantic, so we agreed we'd go to Blackbane first and let him do his treasure hunting there.

My brother was looking spooked right away when we got there. He's not superstitious, mind, just rather unimpressed with untamed nature. Arun went off barking after a rabbit, and Quaynlis took off for the ruined palisades seemingly without a care in the world, but the rest of us proceeded a little more cautiously. Ahead of us was the remains of what had been a great hall, and the rest of the building partly intact behind it. Around the back of the building was a huge dark tangle of apple trees. I've always thought apple trees looked good and wholesome, but these seemed wrong, somehow, made it like a threatening forest rather than an overgrown orchard. As I was admiring this view, I heard a choked little noise from Slaange, and in careful tones, he asked Ivy if she knew whether a huge green snake with red eyes was like to be dangerous. Ivy said they were very poisonous, and Slaange went a little pale at that, because he had damn near stepped on one and it was looking at him now like it was considering whether he'd be tasty.

One wrong move could get my brother killed. But when I practiced with my water dancing master, he told me I needed to be quick as a snake. He caught little brown snakes that had a painful, though not deadly, bite, and put them in big cages. Then he would steal my things, and put them in the center of the cages, so that I would have to be quick as a snake to retrieve them without getting bitten. I did get bitten of course, many times over. I spent weeks with my hands and forearms swollen and in agony. Then, one day, my hand moved quicker than the serpent. One day, I learned to be as fast – faster than – a snake. I couldn't allow myself to think about Slaange, because if I did, I would worry. The universe was just me, and my blade, and the snake. And I sliced its head off before it could move.

Slaange unfroze himself, and he knelt to carefully harvest one of the poison glands from the snake, chiding me on having damaged the other. Ungrateful little snot, my brother. He didn't want to go into the ruins, but he wanted even less to be left outside alone with the snakes, so he reluctantly followed us in.

The wood was rotten and the floors were caving in at points, and we had to move carefully. Well, that's what I'm good at, so when the others edged along a beam like they might die, I practically danced across it. Felt good to really move, after feeling like one big saddle sore out on the road. We explored around, and when Quaylis met a door he couldn't get through, he generally used his maul to smash through it. At the bottom of a set of rickety spiral stairs, we found a bunch of clay jars with lead seals. Quaynlis pried one open, and inside was the sweetest, best mead I've ever tasted. It had had years to settle, which meant we would have to siphon it off the top to keep the quality, but we all figured we could come back for it. We sat and had a drink and didn't realize that the sweetness was attracting company. Wasn't until we was covered in big biting ants that we saw a need to get out of there. And as we stomped our way up the stairs, we learned the buggers had wings too. And then I noticed that our bold adventurer Quaynlis was frozen at the bottom of the stairs. “Slaange, help me!” I yelled, and got an arm around one side of Quaynlis and Slaange got him on the other side, and we dragged him up the stairs. I slapped him across the face to snap him out of it while Slaange and Ivy spread saltpeter around to deter the ants.

We made camp that night, and promised one more foray into Blackbane because Quaynlis had found his adventuring spirit again. He crashed through another door, one made of iron this time – Now, I know this is my brother's territory, but the man has surprising muscle, and it flexes under his shirt when he lifts his maul. It's not bad watching, is all I'm saying. Behind the door we found a smaller hall with a bunch of tapestries, and a giant shield with the Felsward arms that made Quaynlis very happy. He sat at the high table, clearly pretending at being lord, while the rest of us poked about. I'll not deny any man his fantasies, but it all seems a bit silly. Then again, he comes from nobler stock than some of us, so maybe it's something in the blood. We ended that little excursion looking through the abandoned kitchen and finding a giant nest of biting rats, and once more, left Blackbane Hall as quickly as we could manage.

With a promise to Quaynlis that we would return before too long, we headed back to Highgarden, where Azeline had the thankless job of reporting bad news to Lord Arthyr.

Kai

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The mines were nearly done for. That was what Ivy's party found, although they also reported that there was silver too far down to be reached. And nobody wants to go plunging into hot, deep... mines. Still, I could see my father sending people to their deaths over it, and that wasn't a cheery thought. There has to be another way to keep our land profitable. And on top of that, there's the Baratheons to deal with and their damnable new tolls, and the singularly thankless prospect of getting Tyrys a wife and an heir.

I discussed these things with my cousins, though the conversation about Tyrys was prompted mostly by Auntie Odette, who is getting less subtle in her hints that perhaps Florie would be a good and convenient match. I would really prefer to focus on making sure the Baratheons keep their distance.