“What was that?” “A message from Lord Reed.” Her voice wasn’t nearly as quietly threatening as it was when they first met, but it was still curt.
“That was a scout.
We’re two hours away from the main camp.” …
Clark kept his face from showing his excitement.
Two months of searching and traveling had brought him at last to someone who would help him.
So he hoped.
He shifted the extra pack he was carrying and walked on.
The following hike were the slowest two hours he’d had in a while.
He wandered how east they had traveled.
That was their general direction anyway, despite the fact that they took major detours.
They haven’t gone much further north though.
If Howland Reed banished him from the Neck, it would probably be south into the Riverlands again.
Finally they walked into a clearing.
It was the largest patch of high ground that he had seen in a month.
There were several tents with several crannogmen crossing between them, tending to fires, their catches or just going to lie down after a long day.
Clark and his group walked into the fray.
Annag, Dallan and Martan greeted quite a few people, but the greetings couldn’t stop the whispers that began or the stares that Clark felt from everyone in the campsite.
He thought briefly how he could make him less visible, but that was a doomed goal.
He was a head taller than everyone in this group.
The suspicion from Annag, Dallan and Martan may have lessened over the last month, but it was quite fresh here.
Feeling he may as well face it head-on, Clark looked at the nearest crannogman who was staring at him and nodded.
“Evening.
It’s good to meet you.” The crannogman turned to Annag.
“Annag, who is this?” he asked, ignoring Clark entirely.
Annag placed her pack on the grass and straightened up, cracking her back.
“Says his name’s Tiresias.
He wants to talk to Lord Reed.” The crannogman stared at her.
“And you actually brought him here?” Annag shrugged.
“He speaks of dangers in the future and of secrets.
I was gonna talk with Lord Reed beforehand.
See what he wants to do.
If he doesn’t want to talk to our tall stranger, I’m throwing him out of the Neck meself.” “Lord Reed doesn’t have time for the nonsense of an outsider.” A crowd was beginning to gather closer to the group.
Dallan stepped in front of Clark.
He could sense Martan go behind his back.
If Annag was put off by the challenge of the crannogman, she didn’t show it.
She seemed quite bored actually, keeping her voice level.
“If Lord Reed doesn’t have the time, then he’ll tell me so himself.” She turned to another crannogman.
“Arten, is he in his tent?” Arten nodded.
“Aye, he’s only just gone in.” “That’s fine.” She turned back to the whole group gathered.
“I’ll let Lord Reed decide if he’ll hear what this stranger has to say.
I’m gonna go talk to him now.
This man…” She pointed to Clark.
“…is not to be harmed.
He had broken bread with us and is now under our protection, unless Lord Reed says otherwise.
Dallan and Martan shouldn’t have to keep their eyes peeled for any quick knives while I’m gone.
Am I wrong?
Or will you lot behave yourselves?” There was a short silence before the grumpy crannogman who spoke up turned and left.
The rest of the crannogmen dispersed to their tents.
Annag, satisfied, turned to Clark.
“Wait here.
If he wants to see you, I’ll let you know.” Then she walked off to the largest tent in the vicinity.
Clark watched her disappear into it, before turning back to Dallan and Martan.
“Thank you.” Dallan grunted and went about his work.
Martan nodded once and started pitching the tent.
Clark helped him.
Before long, they had their full camp going.
Other crannogmen stopped to chat with Dallan.
Clark did his best not to eavesdrop and started cutting an onion for the stew, borrowing Dallan’s knife.
Someone came behind him.
He turned to see Annag and stopped, waiting with bated breath… “He’ll see you,” she said.
He sighed, unable to stop himself from smiling.
“Thank you, Annag, thank you so much…” “He’ll see you after dinner and when matters with our people are dealt with.
When he’s ready, he’ll send a messenger.” “When will that be?
Did he say?” “No, he didn’t.
But I suppose it will be hours from now.
I’d stay close.” With that, Annag walked off to see the other crannogmen.
Clark turned back to the onions.
Dinner that night was a quiet affair.
More than usual.
Clark wasn’t hungry, but he forced himself to eat.
Martan found a large dry log that brought the fire up to a blaze Clark hadn’t seen in weeks.
He hung his damp cloak in front of the fire and sat with his back to the flames, his eyes on Howland Reed’s tent.
Dallan and Martan stayed close to the tent.
As it was with many previous nights, they didn’t say a word to him.
Not that Clark minded.
He was a loner growing up.
He was used to not talking with others.
As far as it could be, it was a comfortable silence.
He actually saw Howland Reed, or whom he assumed to be Howland Reed, step out of his tent several times to welcome the different crannogmen.
They stayed in the tent for several minutes at a time, a few of them staying for a half hour.
At least it seemed like a half hour.
He forced himself not to become frustrated though.
Truth be told, he had no idea what he would say to Howland Reed when he actually saw him.
He tried a few times to construct an opening statement in his head, but nothing sounded right.
Everything just seemed wrong.
He lowered his head, sighing.
That was not how he was going to win over Howland Reed.
He had to relax.
He was very tired from the month of bog travel and he was struggling to remain seated upright.
Abandoning the fight, he lay down on the grass, his eyes on Howland Reed’s tent.
The fire was still to his back and very warm.
He blinked and sighed.
He was so tired… “Wake up.
Tiresias, wake up!” He started, sitting up, his head immediately feeling light.
Sunset was long past.
He blinked and saw Annag in front of him.
Behind her stood two crannogmen, one of which was the one who protested his initial arrival.
He blinked again as his world centered and stood up.
“Sorry, Annag.
I just…” She cut him off.
“Doesn’t matter.
He’ll see you now.
C’mon.” She turned and started walking.
Clark followed her, his legs a little wobbly from sleep.
He felt the other two crannogmen trailing him.
They crossed the camp; Clark had enough consciousness to feel many eyes following him.
Annag reached the tent flaps first.
She stopped and held her hand up, halting Clark.
The two guards walked by and entered first.
Annag nodded and they both entered.
The tent was smaller than any lord’s tent Clark could remember from the show; Tywin’s, Renly’s, even Jon Snow’s.
However, there was enough room for a cot, a brazier, two chests and a table with three chairs adorning it.
Clark saw that the chairs were collapsible and on one of those chairs sat Howland Reed.
Clark rightly picked him out earlier.
In the light from the brazier, he could see him more clearly.
He did look much like the actor who played him in the Tower of Joy flashback.
Several years more in the swamp had certainly aged him but not horribly.
His brown hair was longer, his beard fuller.
He seemed more wry.
His green eyes reflected the brazier light intensely and for some reason, they relaxed Clark.
Ever since arriving in Westeros, he had never breathed more freely.
It almost didn’t seem important whether or not Howland believed him.
He was here.
He’d made it.
…
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait.