Ch. 3 - The Harvest Festival

Kai

§

The harvest festival was upon us quicker than I imagined it would be. Highgarden was surrounded by market stalls and performers and tents. The first morning, my lovely cousins came to see me, and I was all too happy to be their festival escort. I brought them to the pavilions and and we decided to visit the Redwynes first because... well, because they would have the best wine. We sat and drank wine as we waited for Lord Redwyne to arrive, and he promptly gave us more wine, and I ended up drinking... rather more wine than I intended.

That meant that mostly I was content to sit and listen to Cousin Florie talking to Lord Redwyne about the toll on the Rose Road, working to make him sympathetic to our position, to convince him that it was bad for all of the Reach. Between her, and the pretty, smiling support from Ravenka, I do believe Redwyne was thoroughly convinced by the time we left the pavilion.

I wandered the stalls with the girls and eventually settled in to watch a puppet show with Florie. It bored Ravenka and so she went to shop nearby, which meant that I had my lovely cousin sitting very close to me on my cloak while we watched the puppeteers recreate the story of Balarian the Black. It was warm, and I was a little dizzy, and Florie was whispering pleasantly in my ear, and I had a mind to take her somewhere out of the way of prying eyes and kiss her like I've wanted to for months. I was working my way through this plan when a hand landed on my shoulder like some kind of weapon. It was Auntie Odette, looking decidedly chilly. She said she had a job for the two girls. They were to go investigate the hasty marriage of the only child of the Merryweathers of Long Table to a Baratheon boy. Odette shooed me off to go “help” my father and brother.

I found them talking about the tolls, glowering to each other about what it meant and about how it was clear the Baratheons were trying to force Father's hand on this. Neither of them were particularly pleased when I joined the conversation, but I was sobering at this point, and I had a thought. “We could force Lord Caswell into a defensive position,” I suggested. “Make him say he decided to levy the toll for the greater good of the Reach. Then we make certain that he can no longer collect from us or our bannermen. The Baratheons so kindly built us the toll gate, so we might as well use it for our advantage.”

“You'll do anything to avoid a fight, won't you?” Tyrys said, scorn thick in his voice. “Afraid of war, brother?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my father was smiling. “That is just the sort of thing we need,” he said. “War takes planning and preparation. And we aren't prepared, not right now.” Then he dismissed Tyrys to the yard for his practice and asked me to stay and and discuss the logistics. I didn't miss the dark look my brother gave me as he left. But it serves him right for spending all of his time learning how to get himself killed.

After we finished talking, I found Odette with my cousins in the solar. They were talking in hushed tones about the Merryweathers, and told me that Lilyas Merryweather had married Methias Baratheon so hastily as to be improper. Nobody had been invited, and a more than substantial dowry was involved. As the Merryweathers had no sons, the marriage would mean that Long Table would pass to the Baratheons. Another insult. Another push at our borders. It was clear that the Baratheons were starting to look for fights, but they wanted to make sure we were the ones starting it.

Ravenka smiled, and batted her eyes, and said that at the least the Merryweathers might be rethinking the wisdom of their decision, because they had heard that awful rumor about a secret blood disease running through the veins of the Baratheon men. “I don't know who spreads these stories,” she said with a silvery little laugh that chilled me to the bone. Suddenly I found myself reevaluating my Free Cities cousin and her provincial ways. There is a wicked intelligence behind those pretty eyes.

Odette too, was scaring me. She sat still and straight with a somewhat distant expression, like someone looking over the map of a battlefield and calculating how many lives might be lost. She leveled her gaze at us and said that perhaps something could be done about Methias Baratheon. And done about the girl, in case he had gotten her with child. If he died without issue, the ownership of Long Table would revert to us.

There was a silence, and then everyone spoke at once, hissing possibilities back and forth. A man could be wounded in the tourneys. He could be injured and sent to a waiting medic, where all kinds of things could happen. He wouldn't have to die, of course, just be... impaired. And then I thought of something I had heard from Azeline Ivy a few days before. Her cousin Slaange, who we had sent along with her to Silver Hill, had proved a strong knowledge of poisons and substances. If anything could be done, both about the possibility that Lilyas was already with child, and the chances of making another one, he would know how to do so in the most quiet fashion there was. I said this, quietly, and assured the ladies that I would speak with him that night.

I went to seek out Azeline, presuming correctly that she would be avoiding the castle and enjoying the company of her new friends. I found them around the fire listening to a really filth song from the performer, but Azeline bounded to my side almost as soon as she saw me. There's another pretty girl, though young. I felt a bit bad for needing to brush her aside so quickly, but I had to talk to Slaange. He looked startled when I called for him, and there was something like a flush in his cheeks when he agreed to talk to me alone. Interesting, that. He was a bit miffed that Azeline had told me about him, but I assured him of my discretion – and my willingness to pay for his services.

I asked him first about the drink for the girl. “There's a girl-” I started.

“Say no more,” Slaange said, waving a hand, then caught something in my look and frowned. “Wait... perhaps you should say more.”

“I need to make sure that if she is with child... she isn't any more,” I said. “But without her knowing.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

The next, though, was a tricky prospect. In order for a man to lose his vitality as we intended, he needed a red-capped mushroom rare enough to be a serious challenge. He said it only grew in the hollow where a fox had gone in to give birth, and died instead. He called to Azeline, and asked her if such a thing grew in our forests. She agreed that it should, and I offered to take us all on a hunting trip in the morning. They could look as much as they pleased then. With that, I took my leave, and went back to the feast to tell the others what we needed.

Rula

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When the second son of the Gardeners came and asked for my brother, I tried not to stare. Especially since everyone else was doing enough staring already. The man looks like he walked out of a ballad, which isn't remotely fair. Azeline could barely manage to talk sense around him, and she's a sensible sort of girl, normally. Seemed to be all my brother could do to not make doe eyes at the man. Not that I wasn't affected, mind, I think it would take a person made of stone not to respond to that smile, but I know my chances.

When Slaange hinted that what the lordling wanted was some kind of poisoning, I grunted and held up a hand. “Likely then, it's better the less I know,” I muttered. “I'll just make sure you're safe.” When it comes to noble business, I've always imagined it's best that I only know exactly as much as I need to do my job. A job which apparently now includes going on a hunting trip and helping to find some kind of mushroom. I don't mind being out and about, I suppose, but all the same, I've not had lovely experiences with the wildlife around these parts so far.

Not my job to protest, though. In the morning, we would go hunting.