Rula
§
We knew we probably didn’t have much in the way of time to work. We needed to get Slaange’s equipment back, but doing so right now would be death. My brother knows enough to know how to handle his poisons safely though, and he instructed us to get a quantity of oil, rags, and a wet canvas bag, all of which would help us clean it enough to keep from killing anyone else. I went around with Azeline, who had the authority to commandeer all of those things from various parts of Bitter Bridge, and I tried to distract her from thinking too hard about why Slaange’s kit was so dangerous. Medicines often were, I told her. It’s a damn good thing Slaange was always as good at the patching up as he was at the other things, because he’s a passable healer, if a bit unconventional. Azeline accepted this, the way that dear girl accepts everything, and we rounded up the things Slaange wanted, including a bellows that the blacksmiths were reluctant to part with.
The idea was simple. Through a small crack in a window, we would spray oil around enough so’s my brother could go in and finish cleaning up with more oil, get his pack, and leave it all for someone else to find and not kill themselves. Was a good plan, and with Quaynlis holding his thumb over the end of the bellows, they got oil sprayed around, and the rest of us stood guard while Slaange went in all covered up and practically blind so he wouldn’t get exposed.
A guard came up to us and started to get suspicious, but Quaynlis pretended someone had stolen a pack from him and got all theatrical. I did my best to support his story, mostly with a lot of nodding and agreement, and eventually the guard went on his way, promising to look for the nonexistent culprit. That was all well and good, and we thought we were doing rather well.
But time dragged on, and it turned out Slaange couldn’t make the place safe. He couldn’t see right and it meant he couldn’t get the oil everywhere it needed to go. I offered to have him cover me up so that I could go in and finish the job. I can move well, even with my eyes closed, and didn’t imagine that dealing with one room I could see the shape of from outside would pose me much trouble. I trusted him to keep me safe while I did, and I went in and got the rest of the powdery poison oiled and soaked into rags, which we then stuffed in the wet canvas bag for later use or disposal.
That should have been the end of it, but suddenly there was a tall man with a shock of black hair walking towards us with several guardsmen at his heels. He looked a right noble sort too, and he was wearing Baratheon colors. He introduced himself as Dynzyl Baratheon, and said he'd been watching us clean up the room with three dead men in it, and that we were all being put under arrest. I couldn't do anything but go with them, even though it meant giving up my sword, which pained me. My mind raced, but there was no way out. We just had to hope someone was watching out for us.
Kai
§
We were sitting in the hall, talking to the Caswells, staying away from any important topics and just making pleasantries. Given what we needed to demand of them, I wanted to start everything off as well as possible. It was going well until Lady Azeline and our people were prodded into the hall, flanked by guards, with Dynzyl Baratheon leading the way, calling them criminals and possibly murderers. My first thought was to wonder why in seven hells Baratheon was here, and what his pretense of business was, but that soon gave way to worry over the accusation. He said he had seen them cleaning a hut with three dead men in it, in a very suspicious manner, and I realized with growing horror that what he was describing had something to do with Slaange's poisons.
Azeline, though, looking very earnest, said that if she could just have a chance to explain, she would. I was a little surprised, since there seems to be no tendency towards any artifice in the girl whatsoever. But she also didn't seem to think she would be lying, so I didn't interfere and let her speak. She was truthful about losing the horse, and Slaange's bag, but the way she described it, it was all medical supplies, and that once they'd found that a dangerous substance had killed people, they wanted to make sure it was cleaned before anything else. She told it so sweetly, I thought there couldn't be any question about it.
But that's when Caswell's Maester stepped forward. Maester Burwell was a gaunt man with a hooked nose, and a thin red scar around his neck that showed he'd once been hanged. “May I ask you some questions, Lady Ivy?” He asked in a low and rasping voice. “What do you call a medicine that kills someone?”
Azeline squinched up her face a little bit. “A bad medicine?” She hazarded. I could have kissed her for that. Not a suspicious thought in her head.
“What about a man who uses that to kill someone?”
“A bad doctor?” Azeline couldn't see where this was going. She wasn't going to say the word for him, and finally Maester Burwell said it himself- made the accusation that Slaange was a poisoner. It didn't have as much weight as if he'd gotten her to say it, though, and Slaange jumped in at that point, saying that what had spilled was Horsewort, a dangerous but useful plant, frequently powdered. Since his bottles are unlabeled, his pack was little evidence against him.
Caswell wasn't entirely convinced that Slaange was a healer, even so, and at that, I pulled up the leg of my pants to show the scar from the leg wound Slaange had healed. I made a good story of it too, and said that while Slaange was an unconventional healer, I found him very useful. Caswell seemed at the least satisfied by this conclusion, and though Baratheon seemed unhappy about it, my people were all released and their possessions returned to them. I added to Caswell that we would pay the blood price of 15 silver moons for each man accidentally killed, a gesture that was noble enough to pacify him almost entirely. It seemed prudent, even so, to keep Slaange well out of sight for the rest of our stay.
At last, we retired to our rooms. I wanted to talk with Odette, Florie, and Rivenka about how we would go about getting Caswell to do what we wanted, but Odette held up a hand. She checked over the room and found a sliding brick in the fireplace. She said that she didn't think there were any observers right now, but any secret passages meant that we couldn't ever assume we were unobserved in this castle.
We decided that to do what Father wanted – taking a third of the proceeds of the tolls after the houses and gates were paid for, and assuring that no houses of the Reach would pay the tolls – it would be best to make the arrangement public in a way Caswell could not object to. The best way to do that, it seemed, was to announce how pleased we were to see that he had built the toll road for the benefit of the Reach, preferably at a large event.
We could make that large event by convincing him to host the party where I would announce my engagement to Florie. With that, she and I went along with Odette to convince Caswell to host. He was reluctant at first, but Florie's charm, as I well know, is difficult to resist. He and his lady ended up graciously agreeing to do us this honor.
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