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If
Lord
Stannis
knew
of
this
sailing
,
he
could
not
choose
a
better
time
to
send
his
fleet
against
us
.
Tyrion
glanced
back
to
where
the
Rush
emptied
out
into
Blackwater
Bay
and
was
relieved
to
see
no
signs
of
sails
on
the
wide
green
horizon
.
At
last
report
,
the
Baratheon
fleet
still
lay
off
Storm
’
s
End
,
where
Ser
Cortnay
Penrose
continued
to
defy
the
besiegers
in
dead
Renly
’
s
name
.
Meanwhile
,
Tyrion
’
s
winch
towers
stood
three
-
quarters
complete
.
Even
now
men
were
hoisting
heavy
blocks
of
stone
into
place
,
no
doubt
cursing
him
for
making
them
work
through
the
festivities
.
Let
them
curse
.
Another
fortnight
,
Stannis
,
that
’
s
all
I
require
.
Another
fortnight
and
it
will
be
done
.
Tyrion
watched
his
niece
kneel
before
the
High
Septon
to
receive
his
blessing
on
her
voyage
.
Sunlight
caught
in
his
crystal
crown
and
spilled
rainbows
across
Myrcella
’
s
upturned
face
.
The
noise
from
the
riverside
made
it
impossible
to
hear
the
prayers
.
He
hoped
the
gods
had
sharper
ears
.
The
High
Septon
was
as
fat
as
a
house
,
and
more
pompous
and
long
of
wind
than
even
Pycelle
.
Enough
,
old
man
,
make
an
end
to
it
,
Tyrion
thought
irritably
.
The
gods
have
better
things
to
do
than
listen
to
you
,
and
so
do
I
.
When
at
last
the
droning
and
mumbling
was
done
,
Tyrion
took
his
farewell
of
the
captain
of
Rob
’
s
Hammer
.
"
Deliver
my
niece
safely
to
Braavos
,
and
there
will
be
a
knighthood
waiting
for
you
on
your
return
,
"
he
promised
.
As
he
made
his
way
down
the
steep
plank
to
the
quay
,
Tyrion
could
feel
unkind
eyes
upon
him
.
The
galley
rocked
gently
and
the
movement
underfoot
made
his
waddle
worse
than
ever
.
I
’
ll
wager
they
’
d
love
to
snigger
.
No
one
dared
,
not
openly
,
though
he
heard
mutterings
mingled
with
the
creak
of
wood
and
rope
and
the
rush
of
the
river
around
the
pilings
.
They
do
not
love
me
,
he
thought
.
Well
,
small
wonder
.
I
’
m
well
fed
and
ugly
,
and
they
are
starving
.
Bronn
escorted
him
through
the
crowd
to
join
his
sister
and
her
sons
.
Cersei
ignored
him
,
preferring
to
lavish
her
smiles
on
their
cousin
.
He
watched
her
charming
Lancel
with
eyes
as
green
as
the
rope
of
emeralds
around
her
slim
white
throat
,
and
smiled
a
small
sly
smile
to
himself
.
I
know
your
secret
,
Cersei
,
he
thought
.
His
sister
had
oft
called
upon
the
High
Septon
of
late
,
to
seek
the
blessings
of
the
gods
in
their
coming
struggle
with
Lord
Stannis
.
.
.
or
so
she
would
have
him
believe
.
In
truth
,
after
a
brief
call
at
the
Great
Sept
of
Baelor
,
Cersei
would
don
a
plain
brown
traveler
’
s
cloak
and
steal
off
to
meet
a
certain
hedge
knight
with
the
unlikely
name
of
Ser
Osmund
Kettleblack
,
and
his
equally
unsavory
brothers
Osney
and
Osfryd
.
Lancel
had
told
him
all
about
them
.
Cersei
meant
to
use
the
Kettleblacks
to
buy
her
own
force
of
sellswords
.
Well
,
let
her
enjoy
her
plots
.
She
was
much
sweeter
when
she
thought
she
was
outwitting
him
.
The
Kettleblacks
would
charm
her
,
take
her
coin
,
and
promise
her
anything
she
asked
,
and
why
not
,
when
Bronn
was
matching
every
copper
penny
,
coin
for
coin
?
Amiable
rogues
all
three
,
the
brothers
were
in
truth
much
more
skilled
at
deceit
than
they
’
d
ever
been
at
bloodletting
.
Cersei
had
managed
to
buy
herself
three
hollow
drums
;
they
would
make
all
the
fierce
booming
sounds
she
required
,
but
there
was
nothing
inside
.
It
amused
Tyrion
no
end
.
Horns
blew
fanfares
as
Lionstar
and
Lady
Lyanna
pushed
out
from
shore
,
moving
downriver
to
clear
the
way
for
Seaswift
.
A
few
cheers
went
up
from
the
crush
along
the
banks
,
as
thin
and
ragged
as
the
clouds
scuttling
overhead
.
Myrcella
smiled
and
waved
from
the
deck
.
Behind
her
stood
Arys
Oakheart
,
his
white
cloak
streaming
.
The
captain
ordered
lines
cast
off
,
and
oars
pushed
the
Seaswift
out
into
the
lusty
current
of
the
Blackwater
Rush
,
where
her
sails
blossomed
in
the
wind
—
common
white
sails
,
as
Tyrion
had
insisted
,
not
sheets
of
Lannister
crimson
.
Prince
Tommen
sobbed
.
"
You
mew
like
a
suckling
babe
,
"
his
brother
hissed
at
him
.
"
Princes
aren
’
t
supposed
to
cry
.
"
