All That Brainpower Leads to the Tower
Five weeks had passed since her father had left for Sunspear to take part in the annual Council Session, an event that most heads of Dornish Houses would miss only if they were on their deathbed or at least unable to be carried in a litter. That was their chance to lay their grievances at the Prince's feet, give opinion about various steps and actions Maron Martell wanted to undertake and meet their counterparts from the more distant parts of Dorne. Missing a Council Session meant missing one's chance to take part in the decision-making, although everyone could appeal to the Prince at any given time. But it was simply not the same.
Dyanna missed her father a little but mostly, she was relieved that he'd be away for a while. Lately, he had not been so active in taking her side against her mother's efforts to mould her into submission. Now both her parents were away and while the castellan would hardly let her get her way in everything, at least he wouldn't tell her that it was improper for a lady to get her hands dirty, earth clinging under her nails despite the thin gloves she wore when she worked in the garden.
Now, she looked at the bright flower beds – splashes of velvet in all colours. The white of freesia, the flame of crown imperial, the blue and rose of anemone and the purple of musk-hyacinth all thrived at Starfall where the breath of sea and the mist shimmering each morning and every night from both the sea and the Torentine would not let the heat suffocate their fragile spring beauty like it did in many other places, the more deeply one went in Dorne.
The lilac had also bloomed. Each morning, Dyanna went to press her face against its cold wet blossoms, unable to believe that they'd stay this way late into the morning, although the head gardener at King's Landing had sworn to this effect. The branches were heavy with blossoms and Dyanna considered it her personal success.
She had learned by heart how she should take care of the bushes and this morning she gave it a careful examination, like she always did. Died branches should be removed immediately and she cut off two, careful not to cut herself. It had happened before in her gardener enthusiasm. When she was over, she headed for the fountain meant to serve the needs of the garden. Her father had warned her that she wouldn't be allowed to waste people's time with taking care of the veritable wood she had negotiated or charmed in the Red Keep.
It was a lovely spring morning. As usual, Dyanna stopped to see how the sun would turn the Palestone Sword Tower into a huge burning ruby and resumed walking, breathing the invigorating early air in.
But today, someone had gone to the fountain before she did. And it wasn't the servants. With a sinking heart, Dyanna thought of the outlaws who had recently started plaguing the area, and then almost laughed in relief when she recognized Myles Jordayne.
They were all there – five boys, heirs to castles in the vicinity. And undoubtedly, they were here on Ultor's invitation. Ultor's? Not in the castle but here? At this time? Jaril Manwoody must have ridden half the night, she thought. None of them would have slept.
She didn't quite understand what was going on but it was no doubt some sort of conspiracy evolving in front of her. Or a council. Her curiosity piked up, so she headed for them and noticed the exact moment they saw her.
"Well met," she said cheerfully and in the murmur of discordant answer took a list of everyone's reaction, from Ultor's clear anger to Rolen Blackmont's faint displeasure. While some of those boys tended to veer away from her since they had all started growing up, the level of dissatisfaction with her sudden appearance did not match the interruption in any way. She smiled even more broadly. "Aren't you going to come inside?"
"We… didn't want to disturb the sleeping people…" Myles muttered. Dyanna took pity of him and didn't voice her astonishment as such bland a lie. He turned red, up to the tips of his ears.
"I see," she said. And then, before they could all relax, "But since I'm here anyway, do you want to tell me about this so important matter that gathered you here at this hour?"
"We are going… to a hunt in a day or two," Ultor said. "How is your lilac? I suppose that's why you're up so early?"
Dyanna recognized a diversion maneuver when she saw one. Still, she had to admit that the try was a good one. But the excuse was preposterous. They weren't even friends, not everyone to everyone else. Going to a hunt together?
"That's great," she said. "I've been dying to try my new falcon. I think he'll be delighted as well."
Ultor's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid you aren't invited, Dyanna," he said. "It'll be a man thing."
Really? Where were the men in this company? "Which means that a girl would lend some nice diversity," Dyanna said, perfectly reasonably according to her. She turned her back, so the rising sun would not blind her. "We'll have a great time, you'll see!"
Ultor gave up on pretences. "Yes, if you were coming with us. But you aren't."
"Why?" Dyanna prodded. "What's wrong with me accompanying you? It's just a hunt."
Their uncomfortable looks made something in her mind snap. "You're going to hunt the outlaws!"
Ultor gave her a furious look.
At this moment, a new boy came from behind the group. Aron Wyl. He must have been riding for a day and a half. "What?" he exclaimed. "You've told her? Ultor, are you mad?"
Ultor's fierce eyes met their new target. "You fool! You just told her. Like right now! Sweet Seven above, all of you have at least heard about her tricks. How could you let her goad you like this?"
Dyanna didn't mind being considered this devious when all she had had was a lucky suggestion… and a chance. She smiled broadly.
Ultor sighed and gave her a look. "You won't tell Ser Rodar, will you?" he asked, trying not to sound pleading. The castellan wouldn't hesitate to have him kept in his chambers until their parents returned.
"I'll consider the option of being merciful," Dyanna promised, wondering what she would do if he called her bluff. No matter her careless demeanor, she was a responsible person. The outlaws who had sprung out as soon as the lords and ladies had left, taking a good part of their armed men with them, needed to be stopped. Smallfolk was howling for protection and justice; roads were getting increasingly unsafe. No one around the Red Mountains could lie down and feel sure that they wouldn't wake up to find their house burning and their domestic animals being led away, the chance to end up still having the profit of a lifetime of labour close to null. No, Dyanna wouldn't risk spoiling the chance of laying a trap for the brigands just because Ultor would not let her take part.
And he knew her well enough not to need to be told that she would want to take part.
"I really ought to throw you from the Palestone Sword, Dyanna. This way, I'll only have to tell Father and Mother that you've drowned, instead of admitting that I've taken you along to hunt outlaws. I really think everyone would be happier with the drowning version."
"Taking her?" one of the others spoke. "Who said anything about taking her along?"
"I do," Ultor replied, looking decidedly disgruntled with this turn of events.
Dyanna had to admit that their plan was quite good for people who had given it away so carelessly. The arrival of the Lyseni ship had been entirely expected – each month it arrived carrying white wines and whiter tapestries to make their way up the Torentine to Blackmont and from there, on land, to the more distant keeps in the Red Mountains. Last year, even a tentative route to the Stormlands had started taking shape.
She, of course, knew that outlaws were not only after gold and silver. They enjoyed commodities of luxury, keeping some for their own usage and selling others to other shady characters. These one had attacked trains of goods going through the mountains. Dyanna had had nightmares hearing about the fate of the poor merchants. But the brigands had never had the chance to lay their hands upon the cargo of a whole Essosi ship for the simple reason that it was a ship. And they operated on dry land.
This time, though, the trap had been laid very carefully. Just today, the castellan Ser Rodar had wondered angrily aloud where the rumours of great wealth making their way at them originated from. Ultor and Dyanna had been careful not to look at each other. Their father had left their defense quite weakened, just like the rest of the lords and ladies trying their hands in the game at Sunspear – adequate enough to meet minor strife but not much more. Certainly not enough to match the outlaws should they choose to apply their full strength.
Two ships were now sailing down the Torentine and the rumour had it that they were to guard the merchant ship which carried gems from the old Essosi mines. Handmaidens and footmen whispered of a cabin that no one was allowed to enter, for it was heavily guarded by two sellswords. In other castles, money were collected so they could pay for some huge purchases.
Of course, it might all boil down to nothing, yet Dyanna's instincts told her that in this night, one of the only two the Lyseni ship would spend at Starfall, the outlaws would at least come to check on their possible loot. At least that. So, tonight she took to her bed early, pleading tiredness – Septa Angarel looked quite relieved at having the chance to retire early – and then she had donned a pair of Ultor's clothes from three or four years ago. They were still quite big on her but that was much better than being small. The shoes, though, were her own riding shoes. If she could not afford anything fitting her badly, it was the shoes. Then, when midnight drew near, she opened the window of her bedchamber and with the confidence of long practice climbed on the thick arm of the tree growing right in front of her window. Climbing down took less than a minute.
"She's here!" she heard someone hiss when she approached the place they had agreed on.
Dyanna wondered if they had thought that she would not come after going through much bother to ensure that she'd have the chance to do so.
They soon dispersed, youths and a few men at-arms accompanying each. They didn't need more – they were just about to watch all the roads to the river and the ship. And sound the alarm if needed. Dyanna fell into the group that watched the river itself. Those scoundrels might arrive by boat, who knew? But the moon shone upon smooth river only. The closeness to the sea made the rising of the tide almost invisible.
The moon was at its highest when her cousin Joffrey of High Hermitage arrived in full gallop, his face beaming. "We caught them!" he announced without bothering to keep his voice low. "There were two of them trying to sneak into the grounds…"
Dyanna felt a slight disappointment that she hadn't come to see the catching of the brigands by herself but the thought that they were making progress made her overcome the feeling pretty fast.
Still, she felt nervous when they rode under the full moonlight, fully exposed. The northern part of the lands of Starfall was so level. The outlaws could see them as clearly as the boys had seen their scouts, so she felt immense relief when she saw the old watchtower marking the northern boundary. The assembly of horses started whinnying and tossing their heads but those of their own household soon calmed down, having recognized their comrades.
"We caught them!" Aron Wyl cried out, appearing out of nowhere to meet them. His face was shining. "They fought like hounds came straight from the seven hells but we managed to take them without even wounding them worse than a scratch…"
Dyanna was doing her best to listen to him but her heart was pounding. That would be her first time meeting an outlaw. Two of them. It was strangely… fascinating. She didn't know why. When she had been a little girl, Septa Angarel had despaired, saying that ladies were not supposed to be this taken with men of evil who lived to break the laws of gods and men.
The staircase was long and winding. Badly lit as well. The old stones were slick and more than once, Dyanna slipped quite badly. How had they taken the captives all the way upstairs?
And then, they were there and Dyanna gasped in horror, closing her eyes. Then opening them. Closing them again as the people before her parted, so she could see clearly what she didn't want to see. At her side, Ultor cursed and she knew it was not her overactive imagination.
"Well met," the younger of the two captives said. Violet eyes, almost the same shade at hers, b burned straight in hers. "I knew I'd see you tonight. You couldn't let anyone do something without squeezing yourself in, could you?"
Dyanna could only groan.
"Do you know each other?" someone asked.
"Do you know who he is that you have taken?" Ultor asked very softly, in the voice that screamed trouble.
Joffrey immediately guessed what the trouble was. "Someone you know?"
"Kind of," Ultor agreed. And then, in a sudden burst of anger. "Listen, everyone. I give you Prince Maekar Targaryen, the King's son!"
"Seven bloody hells!" someone murmured, a sentiment that Dyanna agreed with wholeheartedly.
"What are you doing here?" Ultor asked.
Maekar just looked at him without answering.
"No!" Dyanna screamed as Aron was hurrying to cut the bonds on Maekar's hands.
Everyone looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
"Dyanna," Joffrey started. "We're already in trouble. Let's not make it harder."
Couldn't he understand that releasing Maekar would make it harder and then some more?
"Don't do anything rash," she said. "We're in the Seven Kingdoms now. We attacked the King's own son and dragged him here by force. Do you know what the punishment for raising a hand against the blood of the dragon is?"
A few of them did and they filled the others in. Eyes full of horror turned to Maekar who just smiled sarcastically. Tied to a chair, a few rivulets of blood running down his face, straight from his pale hair, he looked as impertubable as if he were at his father's court. For some reason, that infuriated Dyanna.
"I think I know what we should do," she announced, the memory of something Ultor had said only a few days ago rushing back to her mind. "We should just throw them in the sea," she explained, pointing at Maekar and the man who, despite being clad in dark wool, was undoubtedly a Kingsguard.
"Is this the best you could come up with?" the Prince asked disparagingly as around him the conversation flared up. Dyanna's suggestion was actually considered as a valid option, although briefly, as the weight of what they had done started really bearing down upon them.