He sat down on the bench.
“I can’t pay for a room.
Not with what I have and how long I have to go still.” The cicadas were very loud now and laughter rang from within.
“You can sleep in my room.” …
Clark turned to her.
Her face was set, her eyes steady.
He kept his shock off his face the best he could and she continued.
“I’ll let you in and you can sleep.
I got to work until the last man goes to bed.
But the kitchen’s closed so that shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.
I’ll join you then.” He stood up, not sure if his next steps would be toward the Kingsroad or toward her.
She stayed where she was.
“You need a bed,” she said.
“You look exhausted.
Sleep would do you good.” Clark took a breath.
“Just sleep?” She shrugged.
“At least a few hours.
If you don’t mind me waking you.
Either way, be more comfortable than the dirt.” There was a moment when Clark waited for Puritan morality, the kind that had shamed him throughout his boyhood and teen years.
The kind that told him he was disgusting for considering this, that this was dangerous, that this woman couldn’t possibly be interested despite her clear invitation.
He waited for that voice… And it didn’t come.
He took one step toward her.
She didn’t look surprised.
“C’mon,” she said.
She led him around the back where there was a door and opened it to a corridor.
She led him past one door and opened the second one, entering the room.
“In here.” Clark entered into darkness.
“Wait ,” she said before closing the door.
He barely had time to acclimate to the dark, before she returned with a lit match and a bucket of water.
She lit a candle, which softly illuminated the room.
There was a bed along the wall, a small chest at the end and a table before a window, with the curtains drawn.
There was a basin on the table with a rough cloth next to it.
The tavern girl was pouring water into the basin.
“Keep the curtains closed.
You can wash yourself here.” “All right,” said Clark.
His mouth was working automatically.
“There” She finished pouring and then patted the cloth besides the basin.
“You can use that too.
I have to get back.
I’ll be a few hours so sleep if you can.” Clark nodded.
“Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” she said, looking nervous for the first time, but only slightly.
“When I come back, we need to be quiet.
There’s no one next to us.
Both rooms are stores, but still, we should be quiet.” “I will,” Clark promised.
He still had his rucksack across his shoulder.
“All right.
See you.” She turned to leave.
“Wait,” whispered Clark.
She turned back, her hand on the door.
“What’s your name?” She smiled, the flame from the candle reflected in her blue eyes.
“Sara.
Yours?” “Tiresias.” “Sleep well, Tiresias.
Be back soon.” And with that, she closed the door.
…
The next morning, Clark sat on the edge of the bed.
Sara laid next to him.
She was still in her shift and snoring lightly.
He scratched his chest, trying to remember, but he had no recollection of waking the previous night.
He had stripped, washed himself (taking an extra minute to scrub his genitals), and had gotten into bed.
He closed his eyes and before he knew it, it was the next morning.
The room was full of the grey light before dawn and Sara was sharing his bed, or her bed rather.
He didn’t remember her getting in.
Clark stood up and stretched, raising his arms high, before reaching for his hose.
He was tempted to cut the legs out and have simple underwear and socks, but he wasn’t fool enough to ruin clothes.
That was a job for a more qualified seamstress than him.
The only task Clark trusted himself with a needle was sewing buttons.
A rooster crowed nearby.
Clark jumped lightly.
He hated alarm clocks in any form.
A moan came from the bed.
Sara shifted under the blanket and managed to open one eye.
Clark sat back down on the bed.
She blinked and focused her eyes on him.
The rooster crowed again.
“Morning,” Clark said softly.
“Morning,” she murmured.
She propped herself onto her side, facing him.
Clark bit his lip.
“I don’t remember anything of last night.” Sara smiled.
“I came in here and you were sound asleep.
Couldn’t wake you.
Tried for a couple of minutes.
You came around for a bit.
Pawed at me…but then you went back to sleep.” Clark sighed.
He felt a little guilty.
“Sorry.” She shook her head.
“You needed sleep.
Anyway you were a good man to sleep next to.
You only snored for a few minutes.
You left me most of the blanket.
You were warm.” Clark smiled back at her.
She shut her eyes for a minute, then taking a deep breath, she got up.
“No sleeping in?” asked Clark.
She went to the basin and splashed water on her face.
“Not without the miss knocking on my door in the next half-hour,” she said.
She reached for her dress and shoes.
She began to get dressed, looking to Clark.
“If you’re feeling guilty, leaving me lonely last night, you can help me milk this morning.
Just a thought,” she added with a small grin.
“I don’t have much experience around udders.” “You can carry the pail once I fill it,” she said.
“Not sure I actually trust you with Nettie.” Clark yawned.
“Is this what you ask of all your lovers?” “Only those not polite enough to stay awake.” And so, Clark found himself leaning against the barn door, waiting for Sara to finish milking.
He watched the horizon.
It was a proper sunrise now and he realized that he felt properly good.
Last night was the first comfortable sleep he’s had since arriving here.
The morning chill was surprisingly pleasant.
He even forgot the clothes were itchy, for a longer time at least.
Sara came to his side and lifted a full pail.
He took it and began to walk back gingerly, Sara keeping his pace.
Once back at the inn.
Sara took the milk into the kitchen and came out with a honeyed pastry for him from yesterday.
It was a little stale.
“No fresh ones yet,” she said.
“It’s fine.
Thank you.” He took a bite.
“It’s still good.” They sat on the same bench from last night.
Neither one spoke.
They enjoyed the silence until Sara shivered.
“Ain’t you cold?” she asked.
Clark shook his head.
“Do you know how far I am from the Neck?” he asked, in between bites.
Sara frowned.
“Hundred miles.
Maybe.
That where you headed?” Clark nodded.
“For now.” “What’s in the Neck?” “A swamp.” She rolled her eyes.
“Who’s in the Neck?” Clark didn’t answer right away.
He knew in this world, rumors could spread like wildfire.
What else did people have to talk about?
He finished the pastry.
“A friend who owes me some coin.” “It’s a long way to go for some coin.” Clark shrugged.
“It’s my coin.
He’s a crannogman and he’s at the castle.
So he said.
Greywater Watch.
And I don’t know how to find a moving castle.” He felt her eyes boring into him.
He leaned against the wall, trying to look unaffected.
He was sure he was failing miserably.
“You ain’t from here, are you?” she asked.
He turned to her.
Her face seemed open and honest.
He shook his head.
“Where you from?” “Across the Narrow Sea.” “Where?” Clark shrugged and looked ahead.
“Everywhere.
I traveled with my mother.
When she died, I ran to the ports and became a cabin boy.
Then a sailor.
I’ve never been to Westeros until two months ago.” “Why you headin’ north?” “I like the cold.
It’s more comfortable.” “You ever been to the Neck?” Clark shook his head.
“No.” “North on the Kingsroad,” she said, “you’ll pass through the outer reaches of the Neck.
If you want to get closer to the center, you need to stay along the Fork when it goes northwest from the Kingsroad.
That road on the Fork takes you to the Twins.
You don’t want to cross that bridge but you have to.
On the opposite bank, you can follow the river into the center of the Neck.” Clark stared at her and she shrugged.
“Travelers talk.
It’s what I heard.” “And then what?
Where’s Greywater Watch?” “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a little sharper.
“Never heard that part and it moves, don’t it?
Besides, I ain’t ever been up there.
Farthest I ever been is Oldstones.” “All right, all right,” said Clark.
He didn’t realize he sounded pushy with that last question.
He took a breath, calming down.
“Thank you.
I appreciate it.” “You’re welcome,” she said, her slight annoyance gone.
“You want some more breakfast?
Sorry I can’t give you more for free.” Clark stood, shouldering the rucksack.
“I need to keep going.
Thank you, Sara, for everything.
I mean it.” Sara smiled and stood.
“Sure,” she said.
She walked up to Clark and pecked him lightly on the lips.
He blinked and she shrugged.
“Never kissed a man from Essos before.
Goodbye, Tiresias,” she said.
Then without a second glance, she entered the inn, leaving Clark in a daze.
Clark stood in that daze for a few seconds before walking away, turning north onto the Kingsroad.
He was tempted to memorize this place.
In case he wanted to return.
Perhaps he could spend an actual night with Sara.
He put the idea out of his head.
If the Ned Stark kicked him out of the North and he had to make alternate plans, it wouldn’t do to follow his horny whims.
They weren’t going to solve his problems.
…
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait.