The shouts grew closer. Arya knew the monastery's architecture was designed to channel sound, amplifying the danger. She scrambled back up the cliff path, ignoring the sharp, scraping pain in her forearm. She had to get off the exposed wall before the searchlights—if they had them—swept the area.
She reached the main level and, instead of heading toward the outer gates, she plunged back toward the courtyard. The central confusion of the barracks escape had drawn most of the guards to the outer wall. Now, the new alarm was drawing them to the central Archive tower.
Arya darted beneath a massive stone archway, pressing her back flat against the cold jade-green stone. She held the captured scroll tight in one hand, Needle ready in the other.
The courtyard was still and empty, a dangerous sign. Every shadow felt like an eye.
She needed light, and she needed speed. Across the courtyard, the single, tall torch that illuminated the well still flickered brightly—the same torch that had illuminated her conversation with Jaime Lannister moments ago.
Arya moved, running low and fast across the flagstones, using a line of storage barrels as cover. The sound of her boots on the stone was the loudest thing in the night.
She reached the well, slipping into the cone of deep shadow created by the torch. Its heat was a welcome warmth, but its light was dangerous.
Working quickly and using the faint spill of the torchlight, she unrolled the captured parchment. It was not a message, but a detailed accounting ledger.
It was written in High Valyrian, but the columns were filled with recognizable trade marks and numerical symbols. She focused on the text at the top: The Pentoshi Commission. Ledger Three: Assets and Transfer.
The list that followed was a dizzying catalogue of Westerosi secrets:
'The Dragon's Skull' (referring to King's Landing's defense plans).
'The Northern Star' (likely referring to Winterfell's forces and grain supplies).
'Golden Hand's Treasure' (likely information on Lannister holdings, which made sense given Jaime's presence).
But the last entry was the one that made her blood run cold, making the hand holding the scroll tremble slightly:
Asset Target: The Wolf's Heart. Scheduled Transfer: Next Tide.
The "Wolf's Heart". It was an unambiguous reference to Winterfell, and her family. And the transfer was scheduled for the next tide—meaning they would be sailing out within hours, carrying these dangerous secrets to their contact in Westeros.
A heavy tread sounded from the archway she had just used.
"Search the barracks again, thoroughly!" It was Jaime Lannister's voice, sharp and furious, carrying across the empty courtyard. "The trader is not merely lost; he is a skilled intruder. He is still on the grounds. If you see movement, do not challenge it—kill it!"
Arya rolled the scroll tight and tucked it beneath her vest. She had the information she needed, and a deadline: next tide.
She was pinned down, and the Lion was hunting the Wolf.