A Clash of Kings (37 page)

“I feared you would not come, child.”

Sansa whirled. A man stepped out of the shadows, heavyset, thick of neck, shambling. He wore a dark grey robe with the cowl pulled forward, but when a thin sliver of moonlight touched his cheek, she knew him at once by the blotchy skin and web of broken veins beneath. “Ser Dontos,” she breathed, heartbroken. “Was it you?”

“Yes, my lady.” When he moved closer, she could smell the sour stench of wine on his breath. “Me.” He reached out a hand.

Sansa shrank back. “
Don’t!
” She slid her hand under her cloak, to her hidden knife. “What . . . what do you want with me?”

“Only to help you,” Dontos said, “as you helped me.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Only one cup of wine, to help my courage. If they catch me now, they’ll strip the skin off my back.”

And what will they do to me?
Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she
could
, but she was dead, Father had killed her, on account of Arya. She drew the knife and held it before her with both hands.

“Are you going to stab me?” Dontos asked.

“I will,” she said. “Tell me who sent you.”

“No one, sweet lady. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”

“A knight?” Joffrey had decreed that he was to be a knight no longer, only a fool, lower even than Moon Boy. “I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me,” she said. “I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

“I deserve that, though . . . I know it’s queer, but . . . all those years I was a knight, I was truly a fool, and now that I am a fool I think . . . I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself.” His voice dropped. “The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . . ”

“
Florian
,” Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

“Sweet lady, I would be your Florian,” Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

Slowly, Sansa lowered the knife. Her head seemed terribly light, as if she were floating.
This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard, but if I turn away will the chance ever come again?
“How . . . how would you do it? Get me away?”

Ser Dontos raised his face to her. “Taking you from the castle, that will be the hardest. Once you’re out, there are ships that would take you home. I’d need to find the coin and make the arrangements, that’s all.”

“Could we go now?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.

“This very night? No, my lady, I fear not. First I must find a sure way to get you from the castle when the hour is ripe. It will not be easy, nor quick. They watch me as well.” He licked his lips nervously. “Will you put away your blade?”

Sansa slipped the k1nife beneath her cloak. âœise, ser.â/p>

âœhank you, sweet lady.âSer Dontos lurched clumsily to his feet, and brushed earth and leaves from his knees. âœour lord father was as true a man as the realm has ever known, but I stood by and let them slay him. I said nothing, did nothingÂ.Â.Â.Âand yet, when Joffrey would have slain me, you spoke up. Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. Iâ™e won no tourneys, no renown in warÂ.Â.Â.Âbut I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.âSer Dontos placed a hand on the gnarled bole of the heart tree. He was shaking, she saw. ✠vow, with your fatherâ™ gods as witness, that I shall send you home.â/p>

He swore
. A solemn oath, before the gods. âœhenÂ.Â.Â.ÂI will put myself in your hands, ser. But how will I know, when it is time to go? Will you send me another note?â/p>

Ser Dontos glanced about anxiously. âœhe risk is too great. You must come here, to the godswood. As often as you can. This is the safest place. The
only
safe place. Nowhere else. Not in your chambers nor mine nor on the steps nor in the yard, even if it seems we are alone. The stones have ears in the Red Keep, and only here may we talk freely.â/p>

âœnly here,âSansa said. âœâ™l remember.â/p>

âœnd if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your fatherâ™.â/p>

She nodded. ✠understand.â/p>

âœou will need to be brave and strongÂ.Â.Â.Âand patient, patient above all.â/p>

✠will be,âshe promised, âœutÂ.Â.Â.ÂpleaseÂ.Â.Â.Âmake it as soon as you can. Iâ™ afraidÂ.Â.Â.Ââ/p>

âœo am I,âSer Dontos said, smiling wanly. âœnd now you must go, before you are missed.â/p>

âœou will not come with me?â/p>

âœetter if we are never seen together.â/p>

Nodding, Sansa took a stepÂ.Â.Â.Âthen spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. âœy Florian,âshe whispered. âœhe gods heard my prayer.â/p>

She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens.
Home
, she thought,
home, he is going to take me home, heâ™l keep me safe, my Florian
. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites.
Florian was homely too, though not so old
.

She was racing headlong down the serpentine steps when a man lurched out of a hidden doorway. Sansa caromed into him and lost her balance. Iron fingers caught her by the wrist before she could fall, and a deep voice rasped at her. âœtâ™ a long roll down the serpentine, little bird. Want to kill us both?âHis laughter was rough as a saw on stone. âœaybe you do.â/p>

The Hound
. âœo, my lord, pardons, Iâ™ never.âSansa averted her eyes but it was too late, heâ™ seen her face. âœlease, youâ™e hurting me.âShe tried to wriggle free.

âœnd whatâ™ Joffâ™ little bird doing flying down the serpentine in the black of night?âWhen she did not answer, he shook her. âœi>Where were you?â/p>

âœhe g-g-godswood, my lord,âshe said, not daring to lie. âœrayingÂ.Â.Â.Âpraying for my father, andÂ.Â.Â.Âfor the king, praying that heâ™ not be hurt.â/p>

âœhink Iâ™ so drunk that Iâ™ believe
that
?âHe let go his grip on her arm, swaying slightly as he stood, stripes of light and darkness falling across his terrible burnt face. âœou look almost a womanÂ.Â.Â.Âface, teats, and youâ™e taller too, almostÂ.Â.Â.Âah, youâ™e still a stupid little bird, arenâ™ you? Singing all the songs they taught youÂ.Â.Â.Âsing me a song, why donâ™ you? Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids. You like knights, donâ™ you?â/p>

He was scaring her. âœ-true knights, my lord.â/p>

âœi>True knights,âhe mocked. âœnd Iâ™ no lord, no more than Iâ™ a knight. Do I need to beat that into you?âClegane reeled and almost fell. âœi>Gods,âhe swore, âœoo much wine. Do you like wine, little bird?
True
wine? A flagon of sour red, dark as blood, all a man needs. Or a woman.âHe laughed, shook his head. âœrunk as a dog, damn me. You come now. Back to your cage, little bird. Iâ™l take you there. Keep you safe for the king.âThe Hound gave her a push, oddly gentle, and followed her down the steps. By the time they reached the bottom, he had lapsed back into a brooding silence, as if he had forgotten she was there.

When they reached Maegorâ™ Holdfast, she was alarmed to see that it was Ser Boros Blount who now held the bridge. His high white helm turned stiffly at the sound of their footsteps. Sansa flinched away from his gaze. Ser Boros was the worst of the Kingsguard, an ugly man with a foul temper, all scowls and jowls.

âœhat one is nothing to fear, girl.âThe Hound laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. âœaint stripes on a toad, he does not become a tiger.â/p>

Ser Boros lifted his visor. âœer, where─

âœuck your
ser
, Boros. Youâ™e the knight, not me. Iâ™ the kingâ™ dog, remember? âœ/p>

âœhe king was looking for his dog earlier.â/p>

âœhe dog was drinking. It was your night to shield him, ser. You and my other
brothers
.â/p>

Ser Boros turned to Sansa. âœow is it you are not in your chambers at this hour, lady?â/p>

✠went to the godswood to pray for the safety of the king.âThe lie sounded better this time, almost true.

âœou expect her to sleep with all the noise?âClegane said. âœhat was the trouble?â/p>

âœools at the gate,âSer Boros admitted. âœome loose tongues spread tales of the preparations for Tyrekâ™ wedding feast, and these wretches got it in their heads they should be feasted too. His Grace led a sortie and sent them scurrying.â/p>

✠brave boy,âClegane said, mouth twitching.

Let us see how brave he is when he faces my brother
, Sansa thought. The Hound escorted her across the drawbridge. As they were winding their way up the steps, she said, âœhy do you let people call you a dog? You wonâ™ let
anyone
call you a knight.â/p>

✠like dogs better than knights. My fatherâ™ father was kennelmaster at the Rock. One autumn year, Lord Tytos came between a lioness and her prey. The lioness didnâ™ give a shit that she was Lannisterâ™ own sigil. Bitch tore into my lordâ™ horse and would have done for my lord too, but my grandfather came up with the hounds. Three of his dogs died running her off. My grandfather lost a leg, so Lannister paid him for it with lands and a towerhouse, and took his son to squire. The three dogs on our banner are the three that died, in the yellow of autumn grass. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he’ll look you straight in the face.” He cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin, his fingers pinching her painfully. “And that’s more than little birds can do, isn’t it? I never got my song.”

“I . . . I know a song about Florian and Jonquil.”

“Florian and Jonquil? A fool and his cunt. Spare me. But one day I’ll have a song from you, whether you will it or no.”

“I will sing it for you gladly.”

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here . . . and every one better than you.”

Chapter Nineteen
Arya

When she climbed all the way up to the highest branch, Arya could see chimneys poking through the trees. Thatched roofs clustered along the shore of the lake and the small stream that emptied into it, and a wooden pier jutted out into the water beside a low long building with a slate roof.

She skinnied farther out, until the branch began to sag under her weight. No boats were tied to the pier, but she could see thin tendrils of smoke rising from some of the chimneys, and part of a wagon jutting out behind a stable.

Someone’s there
. Arya chewed her lip. All the other places they’d come upon had been empty and desolate. Farms, villages, castles, septs, barns, it made no matter. If it could burn, the Lannisters had burned it; if it could die, they’d killed it. They had even set the woods ablaze where they could, though the leaves were still green and wet from recent rains, and the fires had not spread. “They would have burned the lake if they could have,” Gendry had said, and Arya knew he was right. On the night of their escape, the flames of the burning town had shimmered so brightly on the water that it had seemed that the lake
was
afire.

When they finally summoned the nerve to steal back into the ruins the next night, nothing remained but blackened stones, the hollow shells of houses, and corpses. In some places wisps of pale smoke still rose from the ashes. Hot Pie had pleaded with them not to go back, and Lommy called them fools and swore that Ser Amory would catch them and kill them too, but Lorch and his men had long gone by the time they reached the holdfast. They found the gates broken down, the walls partly demolished, and the inside strewn with the unburied dead. One look was enough for Gendry. “They’re killed, every one,” he said. “And dogs have been at them too, look.”

“Or wolves.”

“Dogs, wolves, it makes no matter. It’s done here.”

But Arya would not leave until they found Yoren. They couldn’t have killed
him
, she told herself, he was too hard and tough, and a brother of the Night’s Watch besides. She said as much to Gendry as they searched among the corpses.

The axe blow that had killed him had split his skull apart, but the great tangled beard could be no one else’s, or the garb, patched and unwashed and so faded it was more grey than black. Ser Amo1ry Lorch had given no more thought to burying his own dead than to those he had murdered, and the corpses of four Lannister men-at-arms were heaped near Yoren’s. Arya wondered how many it had taken to bring him down.

He was going to take me home
, she thought as they dug the old man’s hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted.
He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised
. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him.

It was Gendry who thought of the lord’s towerhouse and the three that Yoren had sent to hold it. They had come under attack as well, but the round tower had only one entry, a second-story door reached by a ladder. Once that had been pulled inside, Ser Amory’s men could not get at them. The Lannisters had piled brush around the tower’s base and set it afire, but the stone would not burn, and Lorch did not have the patience to starve them out. Cutjack opened the door at Gendry’s shout, and when Kurz said they’d be better pressing on north than going back, Arya had clung to the hope that she still might reach Winterfell.

Well, this village was no Winterfell, but those thatched roofs promised warmth and shelter and maybe even food, if they were bold enough to risk them.
Unless it’s Lorch there. He had horses; he would have traveled faster than us
.

She watched from the tree for a long time, hoping she might see something; a man, a horse, a banner, anything that would help her know. A few times she glimpsed motion, but the buildings were so far off it was hard to be certain. Once, very clearly, she heard the whinny of a horse.