Ch. 9 - Battleground

Kai

§

A moon had passed and we were feasting frequently. I was doing my best to ingratiate myself to Lord Caswell, knowing that we were readying ourselves to force his hand about the toll bridge. I wanted to make sure he was as friendly as possible when that time came. As guests began to arrive for the announcement of my engagement, I began to drink more at the feasts because it gave me something to do besides eye all the very pretty girls who were beginning to show up.

One night, Caswell leaned towards me, and I had to move a bit to make sure the world wasn't spinning as he did. I knew I was drunker than I ought to be, but I couldn't do anything about it. He was talking about how, things being as they were, he thought Bitter Bridge should be exempt from the taxes on harvest until the snowfall began. It seemed entirely reasonable to me at that moment, but suddenly Florie was at my elbow, insisting that I dance with her.

I was happy enough to oblige, and as she drew me away, I saw pretty little Rivenka sliding in next to Caswell, with that smiling little way she has about her that usually means she's going to convince them of something. Too soon into our dancing, Florie all but pressed me into Odette's bony hands, and suddenly our steward was bullying me into bed. I went, because I knew that what she said was right – I oughtn't talk to Caswell in that state.

Rula

§

I noticed Quaynlis wandering out of the hall, and I caught my brother's eyes, seeing that he too had noticed the swaying, strange way that Quaynlis was moving. Said something that both of us were paying so much attention to Quaynlis, but I didn't feel much like examining that. Perhaps something in the smoke wreathing parts of the great hall had gotten to him. Either way, it didn't seem particularly wise to just let him wander, given our luck, so we left after him. It took us a few minutes to find him once we were outside – he had been moving briskly, if without any particular purpose. When we found him, he was leaning up against a wall, looking puzzled. Then we noticed the loop being lowered from the roof above him to rest around his neck.

Slaange's mouth dropped open. “They're doing a Bravosi necktie on him!” He hissed, and took off for Quaynlis.

I ran around towards the other side of the building so that I could scale it and try to find the attacker. As I passed, Quaynlis lifted a hand to the noose, which seemed to be swelling. I would have to trust Slaange to deal with it if I wanted to get up the building in time, though, so I ran on. I scaled the roof, but it was steep and slick, and as I hauled myself over the top, it took most of my skill to stay upright and quiet. A hooded figure stood at the roof's edge in front of me. He was wearing a loose, one-piece outfit and a turban with hanging decorations. I stared. Quaynlis's attacker was from the Free Cities, though I did not recognize the region the clothing had come from. As I made my way down the roof towards him, I heard a metal clang from below and he suddenly jumped off. I teetered at the edge a moment, just long enough to watch Slaange staring at a long, limp python sliding from around Quaynlis's shoulders with the sounds of metallic rasping. I jumped down after the would-be killer as he bent to pick up the snake. I landed lightly and began to draw my sword, but the stranger threw something at our feet and the air clouded with smoke. Cursing and coughing, I tried to go after him, but when I could see, he was nowhere to be found.

Slaange and I each got an arm around Quaynlis, who was talking nonsense. He had definitely had a dose of some kind of drugged smoke, but he didn't seem to be in any danger from it, and there weren't a thing we could do about it in any case. We took him to a quiet room and sat with him, and Azeline joined us a little later, fetching water and food to us, sweetly worried about our friend and the attempt on his life. She said she was going to tell Kai in the morning, but it was Rivenka who came to see us later in the day. Our cousin sat with us and asked if we were sure it had been a Free Cities assassin. We said we were, and then she gave us a knowing look and asked if we recognized the technique.

Some stories would have a man believing that you can't piss in the Free Cities without hitting an assassin of some kind, but truth is there's only so many people needing killing at any given time, and the schools are somewhat far between. Our mother sent us to the school she had been at, the Fellowship of Whispering Grass, where “quiet as a snake in the grass” and “quick as a snake” are the watchwords. Everyone learns to move, some silent like Slaange and some quick like me, and everyone learns to bite, one way or another. And we all learned that if you weren't the quickest, the brightest, the best of the assassins, well, there might be another assassin out for you. We studied the other schools, learned their ways. But if the assassin we had seen came from a school, it weren't one the Fellowship knew about. Both Slaange and I had seen, unmistakeably, a noose made of some kind of cord going around Quaynlis's neck. Then it had been a snake. A snake that made metal sounds when it was hit or moved. That wasn't just assassination, that was sorcery.

We lived close enough to the Narrow Sea most of our life not to see much, but you hear tell of magic further inland. When we came to Westeros, it seemed even farther away. Until now.

We told Rivenka everything we knew, but with Quaynlis still barely able to get two words out from his near-strangulation, there weren't much else we could say or do. Slaange and I agreed to keep at the edges of the engagement party, armed and watchful. Just in case.

Kai

§

Bitter Bridge was decorated beautifully for our engagement party. The feast was sumptuous, with roasted porcupines, dishes piled high with steaming pies of fish and eel and cheese, and every fine wine and cider The Reach had flowing like water. Baratheon had continued his favors towards Azeline, and on this night, she actually looked like the noble lady she is. Rivenka had gotten Tom the Harper all dressed up in clothes that must have cost near as much as one of her own dresses, and introduced him to the gathered guests as Tallan Harcourt. It seemed she was attempting to gain the surly bard's trust a bit more by giving him a more impressive persona and setting herself up as the personal sponsor of his talent. He played well, and it seemed to be working.

At the height of the evening, everyone seemed to be having a good time, and I took the lord's spot at the center of the high table and gave a speech. It was calculated to force Caswell to agree to the terms my father had laid out, to remind him of his place, and of ours, as his lords to whom he owed allegiance. I could see it playing out over his features – the protest, and the realization that with the crowd hearing this, he could not back out of it.

Then Florie pressed up to my side and smiled charmingly at everyone, and spoke of how strong The Reach was, and how even with winter coming and hard times ahead, we would show our unity, and never let anyone divide us. By the end, even Caswell was smiling a little, and the crowd cheered.

But then the wordless cheering became a chant.

“Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

Florie and I stared at one another. This was just to be our engagement, not our wedding. Neither of us wanted to be wedded here and now, in Bitter Bridge. Odette could stop this, we knew, but when I turned my eyes to her, I saw only a sly smile.