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CaveLeather The key hung on the third nail over the lintel, exactly where Blum had said it would be.
Lyonel pulled it down.
Copper.
Cold.
The white house on East Street was dark when he opened the door.
Only a thin line of candlelight leaked under the second-floor bedroom.
The stairs complained under him.
Every step was too loud for the hour.
The bedroom door stood ajar.
He knocked once.
A chair went over.
Then her voice, still rusted from the Golden Sail.
“Who is it?” “Lyonel.” Three seconds.
“…It isn’t locked.” He pushed in.
Shae sat on the edge of the bed.
Wet hair on her shoulders.
A clean white linen shift.
The bruise still ran from cheekbone into the hair at her ear, but the dirt was gone, and the face under it was small and sharp.
The stubborn heat in the black eyes was brighter than it had been on the bench by the kitchen door.
Rope marks still ringed her ankles.
Red.
He looked once and did not look again.
“Have you eaten?” She shook her head.
Blum’s voice came up from below.
“Bread and broth in the kitchen.
I’ll heat it.” Lyonel dragged a chair across from the bed and sat.
His boots missed the floor by an inch.
Shae’s eyes dropped to them.
The corner of her mouth moved.
“Laugh if you want,” he said.
“I didn’t—” “I’m short.
It isn’t a crime.” She turned her face away.
Her shoulders shook once.
Pots started moving downstairs.
“My lord,” Blum called.
“Onions in the broth?” “Put them in.” “How many?” “All of them.” Shae’s mouth gave up.
The smile was small.
The panel caught it anyway.
[Target state: fear 9 → 6.
Trust 1 → 8.] Lyonel leaned back, hands on his knees.
“Shae.” She looked at him.
“I paid five hundred gold dragons for you.
Not coppers.
Five hundred.
That is ten years of tax on a village in the West.” Her lashes moved.
“I did not buy you to put you on your back.” The heat in her eyes shifted.
Watchfulness to confusion.
“I bought the mouth.” “…Mouth.” “From tonight you listen for me.
You ask for me.
Every hull in this port, what it carries.
Every merchant, who he eats with.
Every rider out of a lord’s house, what he brought.
You write it down and you tell me.” “Can you do that?” Her voice stayed hoarse.
“I… I can’t write.” “I’ll teach you.” “I barely know my name—” “I said I’ll teach you.” He stood and went to the window.
Lannisport’s lights sat in pieces on the water.
“I didn’t know anything either.” “Nobody is born knowing the work.” “My father was running a mine at fifteen.
I was fifteen waking up in a brothel with a machine in my head.” “You’re ahead of me.
When you were fifteen in a house like that, you still bit the man.” Shae stared.
Then she laughed.
Soft.
Broken glass in sand.
The panel flared blue.
[Harem 1 — Shae: bond formed.] [Congratulations.
Blue entry acquired: Loyalty] Effect: Direct subordinate loyalty +20%.
Chance of betrayal −40%.
Morale holds above the break line.
Lyonel read the card, then looked back.
She was still smiling.
The bruise pulled when she did.
She covered it with her hand and left the smile where it was.
“My lord—broth’s up,” Blum shouted.
“Bring it.” Lyonel shoved the chair aside and sat on the floor against the wall so their eyes met level.
Blum set two bowls on the bedside table, backed out, and shut the door.
Shae took hers, hissed at the heat, and did not put it down.
Small sips.
Lyonel drank and looked at the beams.
“This house is yours now.” “Alone?” “Two men on the door at night.” “And you?” “I live at the Rock.” Her fingers tightened on the bowl.
The surface jumped twice.
“…When will you come.” “When I come.” “What do I do if you don’t?” He set the bowl down.
“You work for me.
You are not in a cage.
If I need you, someone will ride.
If you need me—” He put the copper key on the table.
“You ride to Casterly Rock and tell the gate you want Lyonel Lannister.
If they stop you, you say you are mine.” She looked at the key.
Then at him.
Candlelight sat between them.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run?” “Where.” “…I don’t know.” “Back to the Sail?” She shook her head.
“Back to whatever village spat you out?” Silence.
“Then you stay.
Here you eat broth.
Out there you eat a fist.
Do the sum yourself.” She looked at the onion rings floating in the bowl and nodded once.
Lyonel stood and brushed the dust off his trousers.
“Paper and ink in the chest.
Blum brings an alphabet in the morning.” “I’ll be back in three days to see if any of it stuck.” “If it didn’t, I take the broth.” He put his hand on the doorframe and looked back.
She held the bowl.
The black eyes were wet stone in the light.
“Lyonel.” “Mm.” “…Thank you.” He did not turn.
He lifted two fingers and went down.
Hooves at the street.
Near, then gone, then lost in the wind off the water.
Shae stared at the broth, spooned an onion into her mouth, chewed, and put her face to the rim of the bowl.
Her shoulders shook.
The moon was full.
Lannisport tide hit the stone and kept hitting it.
Far down the port road the panel wrote one more line.
[Harem 1 — Shae: safehouse set.
Channel pending.] [Lannisport intelligence node: 15%.] Lyonel checked the horse at the fork and looked back.
The second-floor window was still lit.
He smiled, put his heels in, and took the road toward the Rock.
Night Sight laid the dark out clean.
Edges.
Ditches.
The next turn.
Three days.
Silverhill was still sitting on the map, waiting for a vein man who had gone shopping for a mouth.
CaveLeather