Two days out of Broken Tooth Gorge put Silverhill on the next rise.
Third morning.
Lyonel was still working a heel of bread at a roadside stall when the panel cut in.
[Side quest available: Lannisport — plant an intelligence node (0 / 1)] [Reward: one Blue entry draw] He pushed the bread in and gave the glass three seconds.
“Blum.” “My lord.” “Silverhill can wait three days.
We turn.
Lannisport.” The map in Blum’s hands nearly kissed the dirt.
“My lord.
Half a day and we are there—” “Silverhill will not grow legs.” “The veins will not walk off.” “That work is real.” “So is this.” Lyonel got the saddle and pulled the horse around.
Bronn came up chewing jerky.
“What’s in Lannisport.” Lyonel looked at him.
“Women.” “…You short on those.” “I am short a woman who can listen.” Bronn chewed, swallowed, and found the rest.
“So the work your father named is looking at port trade.” “Mm.” “And the work you mean is paying a madam.” “Yes.” “Shit.
I’m coming.” Lannisport sat twenty miles under the Rock, the West’s biggest bite of the sea.
Spice barrels and wool off Narrow Sea hulls stood in stacks.
Fish and salt had gotten into the air and meant to stay.
Lyonel took Blum and Bronn into the docks.
Eighteen riders held outside the walls.
Dake’s fifteen went into a falling-down stable on the port’s edge.
Blum came behind with a ledger.
“First stop.” “the Golden Sail.” “That’s the largest—” “Brothel.” Blum shut his mouth.
Bronn whistled.
The Golden Sail took a whole three-story stone corner on the main street.
A gold anchor over the door.
Dusk had just put lanterns in the brackets.
Orange ran on wet cobble and made a cheap kind of gold.
Lyonel pushed in.
Incense.
Bad wine.
Seven or eight girls on the rail.
One of them gave him the full trip from face to boot and turned her head with her mouth already wrong.
He let her.
The panel went mad.
Red around the glass.
Three flashes.
Then gold.
A mode he had not seen.
[Warning: Blood Resonance — passive.
Target inside ten yards.
Locking—] His step checked.
[Lock complete: Shae] [No malice.
State: fear / despair / a thin scrap of trust] [Advise: make contact now.] A gold mark pointed.
Corner bench by the kitchen door.
Small.
Folded in on herself.
Dark brown hair.
Burlap gone grey.
A bruise from the cheekbone into the root of the ear.
Young.
Not a child.
Black eyes behind the hair, watching the gaps in the floor as if the boards might bite.
The madam arrived in a hurry, smile first.
The lion on his chest made the smile worse.
“Young mas—my lord.
From the Rock—” “Passing through.” “Passing is good.
Passing is very good.
We have new girls off the Rhoyne—” He did not look at her.
He went to the bench.
The madam chased.
“Not that one.
She is not broken.
Temper like a dog.
Bit a man two nights ago—” Lyonel crouched.
Short already.
Down there, his eyes met hers.
Shae’s lashes moved.
His face sat in the black of her stare.
Big head.
Features crowded.
One green eye.
One black.
Ugly in the cheap light and not pretending otherwise.
She drew back an inch.
He did not put a hand on her.
Fingers under her chin.
Almost no weight.
Enough that she could have turned her head and ended it.
She did not.
“Name.” Her mouth opened.
The sound was rust.
“…Shae.” The gold border died.
[Key figure confirmed: Shae — Harem sequence 1.
Marked.
Bond not formed.] He took his hand back, stood, and looked at the madam.
“Her paper.
How much.” The woman blinked, then held up three fingers.
“Three hundred—five hundred dragons.
When I bought her I spent—” “And the house.” The madam’s mouth fell open.
“What.” “This building.
Her indenture.
Two years of contracts on every girl under the roof.” He drew a sheet from his coat.
A blank grant with the Rock’s seal, lifted from Tywin’s study before the ride.
Blum had copied it in the night.
Close enough.
“Five hundred.
Sign.
Coin tomorrow.” She stared at the parchment.
“My lord.
This house.
My blood—” “If your blood knew you were sitting on three thousand and selling it for five hundred, they would climb out of the ground to slap you.” She shut up.
He put the sheet on the counter.
“Sign.
I will not say it twice.” The pen shook in her fingers.
Shae was still on the bench.
His back to her.
Narrow.
Shoulders not finished growing.
The hand that had touched her had been warm.
When the ink was dry he put the sheet away and did not turn.
“Blum.
Wash her.
Clean clothes.
The white house on East Street.” Then he walked.
Bronn caught him at the door.
“Five hundred dragons for a—” Lyonel did not let the sentence live.
“Bronn.” “Mm.” “You ever believe one person is worth a city.” Bronn looked at him.
Lantern light.
Eyes like stone.
He opened his mouth and put two words in it.
“Madman.” Lyonel smiled and took the saddle.
Hooves on wet stone.
Fine spray.
Wind off the water.
Salt and fish.
The panel wrote in the corner.
[Harem 1 — Shae: held.
Bond pending.] [Lannisport intelligence node: 1% (Shae marked)] He checked the horse and looked toward East Street.
The white house still had dark windows.
No lamp yet.
He would light it when he came back.