Melisandre's tent was never truly dark.
Three tallow candles burned fiercely on her desk, driving back the dangers of the Long Night. Four more stood on either side of her bed. The fire in the brazier danced day and night. The first thing anyone serving her had to learn was that the fire in the hearth must never, ever be allowed to go out.
Gendry entered the tent and saw the red priestess standing beside the desk. She remained in the camp as Gendry's advisor. Many people were drawn to her not because of her faith, but because of her allure, though a beautiful woman was hardly suited to showing herself openly in an army camp.
She looks like a living flame, Gendry thought. As always, Melisandre was dressed in red from head to toe, in a long silk gown bright as open fire. Its sleeves were long, and the bodice was cut to reveal a darker blood-red garment beneath. Around her throat was a red-gold collar tighter than any maester's chain, set with a large ruby. Whenever the red priestess worked her magic, that ruby would glow with scorching light.
Melisandre had a strange charm about her. Once a man's gaze fell on her, it was hard to look away. Her hair was not the orange or strawberry shade common to red-haired men, but a polished dark copper-red that gleamed in the torchlight. Even her eyes were red, yet her skin was pale, smooth, and flawless as fresh cream. She was graceful and slender, taller than most knights, with full breasts, a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face.
"A great victory, Storm," Melisandre said to Gendry. Her voice was low, carrying the unique and pleasing accent of the Jade Sea. Her breath was warm. "But what are you afraid of?"
Even through his cloak and leather coat, Gendry could feel the heat from the red priestess's body. She brushed her hand over his arm.
"Enemies in the shadows, my lady," Gendry said to Melisandre.
"Those who curse you to your face can be seen with the naked eye. Those who hide knives behind their smiles and wait to strike are far more vicious. But they are not frightening," Melisandre said. "Bright red blood, sharp knives. Your enemies will not understand your strength."
"How is your magic here?" Gendry asked Melisandre.
"Ordinary. The birth of the dragons has increased my power, but it would be better in a place of magic, or with more offerings," Melisandre said frankly. "Had you allowed me to burn the statues of the Seven on Dragonstone, I could have gained more power. But I believe my strength will grow swiftly at Harrenhal. They say that place carries a trace of magic. The Wall should be the same."
"What did you see in the flames?" Gendry asked her. "What brought you here?"
"Many things. Most of all, the great war between ice and fire," Melisandre said. "I did not come here simply because of the rise and fall of mortal kings. My previous prophecies were not wrong, either. It is only that the flames of the Undecided One burned too fiercely. Countless male and female priests have been the same. They make wrong decisions because of mistaken visions, follow their own wishes, and then decide that it was a prophecy from the Red God."
Melisandre spoke of it lightly, but seeing the future was not as simple as merely watching. It was an art, and like all arts, it required control, training, and study. It also came with pain. R'hllor conveyed his will to his chosen through the sacred flames, speaking to mortals in a language of smoke, ash, and rolling fire that only a god could truly command. Melisandre had spent uncounted years practicing this art, and she had paid the price for it. No one else in the world, not even among her peers, could read the secrets flickering in the sacred flames as skillfully as she could.
Gendry glanced at the red priestess. Her magic needed no explanation, but the most crucial prophecy had been misread. In the end, her search for the savior had gone in entirely the wrong direction.
"Did you see me in the sacred flames?" Gendry asked the red priestess.
The red priestess shook her head, somewhat embarrassed. "Your flame is too strong. It always interferes with my prophecies. The Undecided One, the Blasphemer. Your path is dangerous, Storm. But that is understandable. House Durrandon and the Valyrian Dragonlords are both bloodlines arrogant enough to blaspheme. Just like your uncle, Great Lord Stannis. Ever since his parents left him, he has believed in no gods."
"You are saying the Doom of Valyria was also connected to the gods?"
"The past is too distant and mysterious to judge. But I believe the gods would not favor a band of blasphemers. It is only that the ancient Dragonlords possessed the magic of blood and fire, and were too troublesome to deal with. Those Valyrian Dragonlords called themselves gods while allowing their people to worship thousands upon thousands of deities, and in the end, they were destroyed by fire," Melisandre said. "That is why I advise you to be cautious."
"Thank you for your warning, my lady." Gendry looked at the red priestess.
"I can serve you further. Give me fire, and I will create shadows for you. Shadows are servants of light," the red priestess said fervently. "Even if not shadows, I can offer you the most primal pleasure."
"Is there any magic that does less harm? Your Lord of Light is far too greedy." Gendry looked at the red priestess.
"There is." Melisandre nodded. "Look here. To serve the Lord of Light, to serve the savior, I have prepared many things."
Melisandre pointed to her carved chest. "Inside are my secret powders. Each powder has its own use. Beyond that, I can perform enchantment, illusion, and sleight of hand. R'hllor is the Lord of Light, Storm. His servants can weave light as mortals weave thread."
The powders she kept hidden could turn flames green, blue, or silver. Some could make fire roar, hiss, or leap higher than a man. Some produced smoke that could make people speak the truth, stir desire, or fill them with fear. One could even create a black mist that killed on the spot.
Gendry's eyes lit up. "Enchantment. That is a good idea. Can it turn another person into the real me?"
"No." Melisandre shook her head. "Your possessions hold memories. Your boots, your hair, your armor. Powerful enchantment is built upon such things. Through murmurs and prayers, the shadow of a person can be drawn from those objects and draped over someone else. The wearer's essence does not change. Only their appearance does."
"Then I will have to protect you well, Lady Melisandre."
"There is no need," the red priestess said. "The first thing I learned when I began studying fire magic was how to protect myself. If anyone means to harm me, I will see it in the flames."
"Do you need my help?" Melisandre asked anxiously. "I can show you all kinds of magic, should you wish it. I have looked and looked into the flames, but I could have done more."
"Will it hurt you?" Gendry looked at the red priestess. "I cannot kill the hen for the golden egg. I need a living advisor."
"No." The red priestess was growing restless as well. Being here without displaying her true power was a waste of her talents.
In truth, the red priestess was not as calm as she appeared. When casting enchantments, if another person was harmed, she would suffer a kind of harm as well. The ruby at her throat would burn scalding hot, and her flesh might even smoke and blacken.
"There will be a chance, my lady. I am hunting rats in the dungeons. Perhaps I will have a use for it," Gendry said.
"It will be my pleasure to serve you, Storm." The red priestess kissed Gendry's finger lightly. "Whenever you need me, come here."
...
Gendry left the red priestess's tent, with Ser Barristan following him. When he returned to his own great tent, the Dornish guest was still waiting inside.
"I thought something might happen between you and that beautiful red-robed woman. After a great battle, men always need some amusement," Tyene Sand said. Her eyes shone with a captivating gleam as she studied Gendry. Her voice was very gentle, and she was as enticing as a strawberry. "But after killing so many people, you still look clean and bright. No wonder my father praised you as the strongest warrior of this age. The Red Viper of Dorne does not praise others lightly."
She had changed into a fitted golden robe, and that pure gold made her look as innocent as a maiden. Her hair was golden too, and her eyes were like deep blue pools. Beneath that beauty, she might well be the most dangerous of the Sand Snakes.
"She is no ordinary woman. Like you, she is dangerous," Gendry said to the Sand Snake.
"I am not nearly that dangerous. You are my father's friend, and a friend of House Martell. The Mountain and the Lannisters are our enemies," Tyene said with a smile.
"Joffrey is dead," Gendry told Tyene. "Killed by a mob. Take this news back to Dorne. Perhaps the people of Sunspear should begin moving as well."
The Sand Snake nodded solemnly. "On behalf of my aunt and her murdered children, I thank you."
"There is no need. No matter who does it, harming children is a sin," Gendry said.
"I see it as punishment from the gods," Tyene said.
"It seems the war is almost over. No wonder that fat man from The Reach was smiling so happily," Tyene remarked.
"No. A greater war is beginning." Gendry looked at Tyene. "The long winter is coming, and the winter ahead will be especially cruel. Hunger is sweeping across Westeros, and The Wall is already on the brink."
"I understand." Tyene nodded. "You truly are different from your father, King Robert. King Robert was the sort of man who enjoyed himself and cared nothing for whether others lived or died. If I had not seen your appearance on the battlefield and your face, I really would not have linked the two of you together."
Gendry snorted. "He was born a Great Lord and an heir. As for me, I was once nothing but a penniless Smith."
"The Smith is also one of the gods."
"Lady Tyene." Gendry looked at Tyene. "If you still want to enter King's Landing, you had best disguise yourself as a septa by my side."
"I could hardly ask for better. How difficult could that be?" Tyene said with a smile, then bowed and left.
Only Ser Barristan, Lothor Brune, and Anguy remained in the tent.
"We are now severely short of white knights," Ser Barristan said first, with a note of complaint. "After the Battle of the Blackwater Rush, I fear even more of them will be dead."
The Kingslayer had fled. One was said to have died in the riot. In the current Battle of the Blackwater Rush, there would certainly be more deaths as well.
"Better to leave the posts empty than fill them poorly. I will need you to take more trouble over this," Gendry said.
"I hear they had the Hound and Ser Swann watched. I expect only Ser Swann is qualified. I will make the selections. Some men have truly stained the honor of the white knights. They may receive other honors, but they should not wear the white cloak." Ser Barristan still stood like a straight, drawn sword.
"King's Landing has been absurd for far too long. It must be changed decisively, and I do not intend to remain in King's Landing permanently," Gendry said. "Besides, once winter arrives, King's Landing may become even less suitable. It must be rebuilt or reorganized."
"After we enter the city tomorrow, have Ser Boggs take over as commander of the Gold Cloaks. You will assist him," Gendry said to Lothor. "Lord Caron and Ser Guyard will stay behind to sort through the slave soldiers who have come over to us and select the best men. The Gold Cloaks will not lack recruits."
"As you command, Prince!" Lothor noted down the order. In such chaotic times, a rapid rise was hardly impossible.
"Also, find the best rat-catcher in King's Landing and have him sort out the secret passages for me. Great Lord Eddard is still in the black cells, and Varys may well move him away. The brothels left behind by Varys and Petyr cannot be overlooked either."
"Understood." Lothor was a quiet warrior, but he was loyal, reliable, and highly capable.
"Prince, there is also the secret passage Petyr controlled. The armor of House Targaryen is still inside."
"We cannot miss that one either." Gendry nodded. The secret passage Petyr had obtained might have escaped even Varys's notice, since it combined both land and water routes.
Rat-catchers, white knights, even enchantment. In this game, everything was for you.
Gendry gripped Tiger's Roar. He had prepared a rich feast for Varys.
***
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