Lady Ashara and I strode without hurry through the halls of the Old Palace, our footsteps echoing softly against pale stone worn smooth by centuries of sandals and boots. We'd all left the Spear Tower together, but not for long. Grey, Jack, Jace, and Ser Sarek had been claimed by servants and guided off toward quarters elsewhere in the palace.
Mine, I suspected, would be much better. In many ways, Dorne was a much more tolerant place then the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Bastards were less despised here, and the highborn mingled much more freely with the smallfolk.
There was some truth to that, of course, but Dorne was still a feudal land. Names still carried weight above all else. Dayne. Martell. Targaryen. Tarth. Blood was the highest currency. And mine, whatever else could be said of it, was old and clean enough to warrant finer rooms than those of my companions, a bastard and three commoners.
Following that logic, I could only imagine Ser Gerion's rooms would be five times as luxurious as mine when he recovered. If he recovered, I thought grimly.
The corridor opened into a long gallery. High windows set with colored glass let warm bands of amber and red light stretch across the floor. I could hear men training in a courtyard somewhere in the distance, blades clashing in a steady rhythm. Closer, water trickled from what must be a fountain nearby, or perhaps the sound of the sea filtering in through some hidden passage.
Ashara walked with her hands loosely clasped behind her back, lavender skirts trailing behind her. She glanced at the windows as we passed, then at me.
"Do you leave Tarth on grand voyages like this all the time, ser?" she asked. "Fighting pirates, winning tourneys, meeting kings?"
"Oh, yes," I said haughtily. "Just last year I went riding zorses with the Jogos Nhai, and before that I was at Castle Black, defeating the latest King-beyond-the-Wall in single combat. At three-and-ten, mind you, and he was a twelve-foot giant."
She giggled. "Oh, but it is such comfort to know legendary knights like you still walk the land," she said. "It's a surprise all the maidens in the realm haven't thrown themselves at your feet yet. Do watch your step when I'm around, will you? I'm quite prone to swooning."
I shook my head. She was good.
"There has been some hopping over princesses and fair maidens in my travels, it's true," I played on. "Unfortunately, knights like me fear maidens above all dangers. We spend so long in the courtyard and astride our horses that we never learn to speak with them."
"Is that so?" She raised a perfect eyebrow. "You certainly seem practiced in it. As for me, Oldtown is the only place outside of Dorne I have some familiarity with. My lord father took us there several times, when I was younger. And King's Landing once." She wrinkled her nose. "That was quite enough."
"Aye, I was there once too. I imagine I would fit right in, now." I gave myself a whiff and she laughed. "No, as much as I wish I could tell you about grand adventures, I have not left Tarth much. Beyond King's Landing and thrice to Storm's End, this is the first time I've been away from home. Lannisport, Oldtown, now Sunspear."
"You seem to have skipped over a rather important place during your ship voyage, ser. Was Starfall not lofty enough for your noble personage to visit?" she challenged.
I put on a sad smile. "I did not dare show my face after my triumph over its brightest star."
"Brightest star?" She huffed, looking down at herself as if to confirm her own existence. "You know, you are the first man to ever compliment my brother more than me. That's twice now. Should I perhaps write to him of your interest?"
I lifted my hands up in surrender. "Please don't," I said. "I'm not sure I could survive your brother's wrath again."
"And what of my own wrath, ser? Do you not fear it?" Her voice was honey-sweet.
I halted our progress, then made it as if to look all around her, checking for hidden scabbards. "It doesn't seem like you carry a certain star-forged sword, so I would give myself fair odds. Still, I'd rather avoid it if I can help it." We resumed walking and I went on, "I can tell you a secret, if you want."
"Bribery, huh?" she asked. "I'm not against it."
"Do you know what my favorite color is?
"No, but do go on, I'm riveted." She smiled indulgently.
"Froggis-purple," I said, meeting her eyes.
Ashara chortled. "Oh is it?" She crossed her arms over her front. "Since when?"
"An hour ago," I said
"Wow, good answer, Ser Galladon," she said, shaking her head. "If you are an example of a knight who can't speak to maidens, then I can only fear ever being approached by an experienced one."
We turned down another corridor, narrower this time, the air cooler. The conversation flowed smoothly after that, easy-going and less charged with banter. She told me of Starfall when I asked her, of how many stars you can see from the top of a mountain peak nearby, and I spoke of Tarth and its sapphire lakes, sheltered between hidden valleys on the island's interior.
Our talk only stopped when footsteps approached from a side passage. A man strode into view then, walking with a swaggering strut like he assumed any in front would make room for him.
I looked him over quickly. Tall, broad-shouldered, sandy-haired, and a neat beard framing a handsome face with a smirk that said he knew it. His clothes were well cut too, rich without being ostentatious. His eyes lit up when he saw Ashara.
"My lady," he said warmly, coming closer. "I have been hoping to run into you."
"I am aware, Ser Anders," Ashara said. "As I have been skillfully avoiding you thus far."
He placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me," he said. "But I do enjoy it when women dither under my attentions. This sort of hunt is far more entertaining than chasing boar through the woods with my fellow men."
I opened my mouth before I quite meant to.
"Apologies," I said. "Did you say women wither under your attentions? That sounds like a serious condition, my friend. I'd advise seeing a maester for it."
Ashara bit her lip. Ser Anders turned to me slowly, eyes raking over my bloodstained clothes, my scuffed mail, and the clear lack of hygiene I'd not yet had the chance to remedy.
"And who are you?" he asked. "I took you for a servant at first, but even they do not dress half so pitifully."
Ashara sighed theatrically. "What poor manners I have. Ser Anders, this is Ser Galladon Tarth, here on an unplanned visit. Ser Galladon, Anders Yronwood, son of Lord Ormond Yronwood."
Ah. The name landed with some weight, and I felt a flicker of unease spread through me. Should not have been so easy-handed with my taunts.
"A Stormlander," Ser Anders said, lips curling. "I should have known. I forget it is your custom to smell so badly even in fine company." His gaze flicked pointedly to my poor attire, nose scrunching up. "Did you visit a brothel and find only pigs in the stables? Or mayhaps you are more interested in what the stallions had to offer?"
My lips pursed into a thin line, and I found myself, ironically, regretting my previous regret. Despite another life where this world had been just paper and ink, and despite knowing how easily tempers here could turn bloody, I felt that familiar pride within me flare up.
Now and for as long as I lived here, I was a man of the Stormlands. Selwyn Tarth had taught me better than to let a dornish prick insult me freely.
"Your fascination with filth and bestiality is quite disturbing, Ser Anders," I said evenly. "But if you must know, I spent the day fighting pirates and bedazzling maidens. Not something I expect you to understand."
Ashara let out a soft giggle. Ser Anders' smile thinned.
"Tall tales, ser," he said, putting careful emphasis on the word. A different emphasis from Ashara's earlier teasing. "For one so young." He shifted his attention back to her. "Allow me to escort you the rest of the way, my lady. To ensure nothing… untoward happens."
Ashara's brows rose. "Do you take me for a harlot to throw myself at every visiting knight, ser?"
"Your integrity is beyond doubt," he said smoothly. "It is the character of a Stormlander I do not trust."
I clenched my jaw. A clever Dornish insult about their unbecoming conduct with their mothers rose unbidden to my tongue, but I quickly swallowed it down. To throw it would not offend only him.
Ashara stepped forward. Her smile had turned colder now. "I have no need of your escort." Her voice was firm. "Good day, Ser Anders."
For a moment, I thought he might press the issue. Then he inclined his head stiffly.
"As you wish, my lady." His eyes flicked to me once more, calculating. "Enjoy your stay in Dorne, ser."
He turned and was gone, following the passage we had just come from. We resumed walking in silence. After a few turns, when I thought the man was long gone, I cleared my throat.
"What was that about?"
Ashara's shoulders tightened a fraction. "You have arrived in Dorne at an… interesting time," she said carefully.
That was all she spoke of it, and I did not press her. Whatever they had going on, I had problems enough on my own. Let the dornish cut themselves to pieces for all I cared.
She stopped before a set of carved doors and gestured for two servants who were already waiting for us at the end of the hall. "These are your rooms, Ser Galladon."
"Thank you, my lady." I inclined my head
She studied me for a moment, then smiled again, softer this time. "You should rest," she said. "I believe you've earned it."
xxx
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