The new unit trained day and night in handling wildfire. For this purpose, they were given a site on the far side of the Blackwater, so that nothing important would be accidentally burned, and the men set to work.
The bowstrings of such crossbows had to be modified, fitted with a special "cup" into which a vessel of wildfire could be placed.
At first, progress was uneven. Some jars exploded upon firing; others flew along wildly unpredictable trajectories. More than a dozen of the most careless men were killed.
Qyburn loosened the bowstrings, making them "softer" so they wouldn't trigger the wildfire with a sudden release. The range decreased, but accuracy improved, along with control over the wildfire. The crews gradually learned to hit their targets with some consistency; experience began to accumulate, and things started to fall into place.
Everyone understood that several containers of wildfire made for an exceptionally tempting target for a dragon. We were forced to draft and formalize a set of "Guidelines for Handling Wildfire." It included many practical rules, one of which stated that no more than a single jar of wildfire could be kept near an active crossbow at any given time—the rest were to be brought forward only as needed.
There was more work than we could reasonably manage, and we all labored nearly to exhaustion. A multitude of minor issues constantly surfaced in the most unexpected places, each demanding our attention.
Yet that strain, for all its draining weariness, had its advantages. The entire Small Council began to resemble a tightly knit team, united by a common goal and pushing toward it despite every obstacle.
***
After returning from the Vale, I entered the "greenery" three times. I witnessed many intriguing visions, yet I failed to find what I was truly seeking. I had hoped to encounter the Three-Eyed Crow—or Bran—but for reasons unknown, that had not yet happened.
Instead, I saw the dead… and one of the Others.
I managed to find them as a vast army of the dead moved along the bank of some nameless northern river. They were led by a figure astride a massive horse. He held a spear in his hand, and the gaze of his blue eyes made me shudder. The sensation was overwhelming—I felt something utterly alien, a cold utterly foreign to our world. It radiated danger, an immense and suffocating threat. A truly chilling experience…
***
Lord Aemon Estermont was appointed castellan of Storm's End and departed for his new post. At first, Kevan and I had considered sending Tommen with him. The rumors that Cersei's children were not Robert's seemed to have died down; Tommen was officially recognized as a Baratheon. My younger brother ought to rule at Storm's End, learn governance, become acquainted with his bannermen, and resolve their disputes and grievances. Despite the threat Daenerys's dragons might pose, he would be better placed in one of the most impregnable strongholds in Westeros; it would do much to hearten the storm lords.
In the end, however, we decided not to risk Tommen. If we prevailed, he would have time enough to learn.
Several ravens were sent north to every lord of note. The letters declared that those who abandoned the Boltons and bent the knee would be pardoned. They also proclaimed our intent to restore the North to the Starks and that we were seeking Rickon. Whoever found the boy and delivered him to the capital would not regret it.
In truth, the North did not present an immediate problem. Bolton forces held Moat Cailin but took no active measures. And we simply did not have the time to press them at present. Once we resolved our more urgent matters, the North's turn would come. We would proceed as we had in the Vale—transport an army by sea, land either at White Harbor or at the mouth of the Weeping Water, and advance on the Dreadfort.
Lord Edmure Tully approached the Twins from the west, while Lord Randyll Tarly advanced from the east. The Freys still held out, attempting to negotiate more lenient terms of surrender. Their situation would be resolved soon enough.
Daven Lannister had cleared the entire western coast as far as Windhall and sent word that the Greyjoys had ceased active hostilities. Most of the lords upon the Small Council believed they would likely attempt to ally themselves with Daenerys and the Martells. There was little we could do about it for the time being—the fleet was still under construction, and what ships we had were kept near the capital. We could not risk sending it along the southern coast of Dorne.
The Arbor, however, might soon become a problem. The island was well placed, and we suspected the Martells might attempt to seize it. A letter was sent to Lord Paxter, advising him to hide away his treasures and resources. Even now, those valuables were being transported to Highgarden.
***
At last, I held a proper conversation with Arya Stark.
The Kingsguard knight Ragnar Ran escorted her into my study. I sat behind my desk. Beside me stood, motionless as a statue, Herald Orm.
Turquoise—now grown to the size of a small horse—rested by one of the walls. She had laid her head upon the floor and closed her eyes. From time to time, a faint puff of smoke escaped her nostrils. In another month or two, I would no longer be able to keep the dragon within the castle.
Arya—a dark-haired girl with gray eyes and a nearly fully developed figure—stood in the middle of the room. She tried to maintain an air of defiance and independence, but the proximity of Turquoise clearly unsettled her. I did not like the Stark girl.
Even within the castle, with access to fine clothing, she preferred to dress in men's attire. And now she wore a doublet, belted trousers, and boots. She clearly favored gray, brown, and black in her clothing. She had every right to dress as she pleased—but she clearly did not understand how the other inhabitants of the castle perceived such behavior and such an appearance from the daughter of the former Hand of the King.
"So, yesterday you were taken off a ship departing the capital. Tell me—where were you headed, and why were you fleeing?" I deliberately addressed her formally, curious to see her reaction and how she would conduct the conversation.
(End of Chapter)
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