[Major characters on Westorosi side, along with titles, cities, and timeline are all canon compliant (with some minor additions). OCs heavily inspired by pre-Columbian cultures. Please fave/follow/review if you enjoy!]
GIFTS FOR THE SUN
A MADMAN CONSOLES HIS SON
With his bid for Lord Reaper dismissed Lord Gylbert Farwynd sets course for home. He had no real choice in the matter: Euron Greyjoy would not have him nor any of his three sons as part of his fleet, for fear that the entire Farwynd line had been tainted by the father's madness. It had not of course, for there is no madness, Lord Farwynd thinks to himself. Still, this is little consolation to Gyles, Ygon, and Yohn. On the sail back to their island from Great Wyk, as his sons work the rigging or steer at the helm, Lord Farwynd notes in their faces a look of disappointment long expected, a great wave of foreboding finally crashed against the shore. No doubt they felt themselves fools to stand by a man that the kingsmoot ridiculed as delirious from sun and sea, thinks Lord Farwynd to himself. But the truth is the truth.
After eight quiet days at sea the island of the Lonely Light comes into view. A rocky shoreline rises up from the water, surrounded by clusters of stone outcroppings where rock-seals sunbathe and sleep, to form an island plateau on which people have established their rickety wooden homes. One can see the bustling masses of peasantry on the shore busy with the goings on of humanity, while at sea all around the island small fishing vessels wander here and there. Behind them all at the western edge of the isle rises the modest stone castle of House Farwynd, the Bulwark of Salt, which itself hosts the lightower that is the westernmost point in all of Westeros, a turret known as the Last Light.
Apart from this island silhouette there is nothing. To the left and the right, above and below, the blues of sea and sky extend on forever.
As his sons oversee the unloading of House Farwynd's small fleet, Lord Gylbert Farwynd and his royal entourage make for the Bulwark of Salt. He's been away for many weeks now and he doesn't want to neglect his youngest for any longer than he needs to. His heart needs some relief.
Lord Farwynds first three were born to his first wife Gwyndolyn, but the third birth proved too much for that lovely woman. Little Grygory Farwynd was born of a saltwife, taken whilst Lord Farwynd reaved the mainland out of bitterness, saddened that his wife would not live to see the Land of the Dawn. Little Grygory is only seven years old, nine years younger than his next oldest brother Yohn, with black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes flecked with different colors, much like his father.
On arriving at the Bulwark Lord Farwynd's servants inform him that Little Grygory can be found in his most favorite of all places: at the top of the Last Light. Lord Farwynd makes his way up the cold steps, carved into the gray stone of the island, to find the great brazier of fire at the top of the lighthouse unlit. His youngest is at the railings, peering out toward the west.
"Grygory, I thought we had an understanding," says Lord Farwynd, "you could come up here only to light the light."
"Father!" says little Grygory, surprised. The boy turns and runs into his father's embrace.
"I saw the Blue Wynd coming earlier," says little Grygory, "and that's when I remembered I had to light the fire, but then I got distracted, because I thought about you, and why you were back, and about the Land of the Dawn.
"Since you're here, does this mean you aren't Lord Reaper?" asks little Grygory.
"I'm afraid so little one," says Lord Farwynd, "the ironborn did not believe in me, and they chose someone else to be king of the Iron Islands."
"Who?" asks little Grygory.
"Euron Greyjoy," says Lord Farwynd, "Lord Reaper Euron Greyjoy," he corrects himself.
"Why didn't they believe in you?" asks little Grygory.
"I don't know," says Lord Farwynd, "I suppose I couldn't offer them any proof, just my word."
"You could have used the foreign words," says little Grygory, "like you showed me."
The swishy language of the People of the Dawn, Lord Farwynd thinks to himself. It's true, he could have spoken in that tongue to his ironborn peers. But they were already skeptical of his claims, and he feared that to speak foreign words just then would have made him look even more like a raving madman.
"Perhaps I could have," says Lord Farwynd to his son. He looks out at the sea toward the west as his son was doing, "perhaps I should have," he corrects himself again.
"Does this mean we won't be going to the Land of the Dawn?" asks little Grygory.
"No," says Lord Farwynd, "I'm afraid we won't."
Lord Farwynd looks down at his youngest son and sees the boys shoulders slump. Little Grygory turns away from his father and looks out at the sea as well, his young face forlorn.
"But perhaps you will be able to go, someday," says Lord Farwynd.
"How? The Lonely Light is small. You said we would need the help of Great Wyk," says little Grygory.
"The Lonely Light is small," says Lord Farwynd, "and we don't have the ships or the men, or at least, not yet. But we can put the pieces together - a new ship here, a cache of supplies there - so that in time we can afford to make the crossing. It will take a long time, that's true. I will be dead and you might be an old man by the time the fleet is ready once more, but you will be able to go and see it."
"Do you really think so father?" asks little Grygory.
"Yes, of course," says Lord Farwynd. The truth is the truth. The only reason he is willing to let his other sons go and risk their lives reaving is because he knows that should they all fall in battle little Grygory will be here to continue his legacy of westward exploration. Little Grygory will lead a fleet into the Sunset Sea of so many ships and men that he'll be able to bring back the exotic treasures of that alien continent. Little Grygory will redeem his family's name.
"Will you tell me the story again?"
"Where should I start?," asks Lord Farwynd. Outside of the few men that returned with him little Grygory is the only person who's ever wanted to talk with Farwynd about what he saw across the sea. Not wanting to disappoint the boy Lord Farwynd long ago started embellishing the story so as to keep the little one's attention, and with so many years between him and that fateful voyage, the embellishments have become indiscernible from memory.
"Start from the storm," says little Grygory.
"Ah yes. When the Storm God brought his wrath down upon the sea," begins Lord Farwynd, "We thought that we had perhaps angered him with our audacity, since at this point we were farther west in the Sunset Sea than any ship had ever been before. Surely the Storm God had espied our vessel and sought to punish us for overstepping our bounds as men of flesh and blood. Over the course of a day tall dark clouds gathered themselves up along the horizon, like an army, but they didn't direct themselves at us. Their orders were to break themselves upon the sea - fighters in one of the titanic battles the Storm God and the Drowned God wage out in the vastness of the open ocean. The dark storm clouds were a ways off in the distance, but such was the excess of their reach that if we maintained our course we would have been swept up in their chaos."
"But then you saw the Forktail birds!" says little Grygory.
"Yes," says Lord Farwynd, "Forktails. Massive birds, all white and black, beaks as long a man's arm, with a wingspan as almost as wide as our ship was long. And yet as large as they are they still appear slender, their wings tapering down to clean points. We still don't know what land the Forktails come from or which they fly to - while out at sea we never once saw them land to rest in the water, which was just as well. The men feared they might try to attack us if they came to see us as food.
Forktails always fly away from an approaching storm, even those so far they can't be seen. They fly to the westward wind channels, channels that would take us away from the storm's path but also farther away from home. Our supplies were low - we had just barely enough for the return voyage - and if we turned back just then we would have sailed right into the middle of the fight between the two gods. To go on westward would guarantee starvation on the return home, no matter how well we rationed ourselves. With no other option I ordered we press on and follow the Forktails. They'd led us true in the past, and I trusted in their wisdom."
"Then you saw it," says little Grygory.
"Yes," says Lord Farwynd, "the place the people there call the Land of the Dawn. A beautiful place, beaches with soft sand and clear water, verdant forests of tall trees, tracks of rich dark earth, and behind it all a range of faraway mountains that appeared to float among the clouds. Unlike Westeros, where men conquered nature, here in the Land of the Dawn men learned to tame nature: their homes are made of thick branches that grew from the ground all weaved together to form a circular structure, each large enough to shelter a family of ten. At the center of their homes' domed roofs was a small circle where smoke escaped from the hearths within, and these trails of smoke dotted the coast as far as we could see. Their fishing boats, of which there were many, were carved out of a single tree trunk, long enough so that four men could lie down in one and wide enough for two men to sit side by side. The fishermen all looked upon the Red Wynd and it's sailors with curious eyes, and us them. The people of the Dawn have dark skin and black hair and are covered in tattoos and feathery charms, each more strange than the last.
After a time, seeing that we were foreign, they led us to a dock and allowed us to disembark. Their port village was much like any other one sees across the world: there were buildings and streets, parents and children, merchants and artisans, rich and poor, and everything else. But it was as if all those elements were put together in a different way there, and yet, bizarre as they were, they were still all the common things of common folk. People talked, people laughed, people argued, all while looking absurd, as if it were just another day. I can't explain what it's like seeing so much strangeness all at once. That's why you'll have to go see it for yourself."
Little Grygory nods to himself resolutely.
"In that foreign village the local Lord granted us an audience. His hall was grand and made all of a sturdy wood, every inch of it painted or carved with icons of their foreign religion so that it seemed like one single piece of art. Since we couldn't speak his tongue he gave us shelter for a few days until such time that one of his wisemen, a grayhaired man named Quahlo, could teach us enough to treat with him. The Lord's name was Tisquano, or at least this is how he made us known to him, and he took pity on us, for he saw how thin and wretched we were when we first arrived in his village. Because of this he offered us supplies and had his workers make a few repairs to our ship, so that we might return home safely. From his comportment, and that of his people, I took it that they thought of us as some sort of omen, for anytime we passed by them they would stare and speak in hushed tones with one another, quickly forgetting us and passing on to a serious discussion that none of us could follow.
Lord Tisquano told us that we were to return home and inform our countrymen of his land, and that he would do the same with his countrymen. Although Quahlo helped as best as he could, we could only understand bits and pieces. But Lord Tisquano made it clear that there were other kingdoms besides the Land of the Dawn, a kingdom on the plains, a monarchy among the mountains, and an empire of an undying jungle, a jungle that never suffered the cold of winter, a jungle that he said that holds the secret to eternal life. All of these, he said, were kingdoms that would be interested in new peoples to share their gifts with. I promised the good Lord Tisquano I would do as he expected of me. It was the least I could do for ensuring we wouldn't starve on our voyage home."
"When I go to the Land of the Dawn I will find Lord Tisquano," says little Grygory, "and I'll thank him once again for you father."
Lord Farwynd chuckles.
"Lord Tisquano was already an older man when I last saw him, he will surely be dead by the time you make the voyage," says Lord Farwynd.
"Then I will treat with his son," says little Grygory, "he has a son, doesn't he?"
"Oh yes," says Lord Farwynd, "he has four children. Two boys and two girls. His youngest is about your age now I imagine."
"What were their names?" asks little Grygory.
"You know," says Lord Farwynd, "I don't think I can remember. It was so many years ago now and you know I don't have a good ear for names. I suppose you'll have to go and ask them yourself."
Little Grygory smiles and Lord Farwynd is glad to see it.
A FAMILY OF LOWLY SMALLFOLK IS VISITED BY A PAIR OF STRANGERS
The twins Calissa and Leander come running over the hill and back to the farm, yelling excitedly:
"Momma! Poppa!" they cry in unison, "you won't believe what we saw!"
Their mother is in the cottage sewing and their father is out on the field harvesting the last of the wheat with an old scythe. The parents don't pay the twins much mind; the twins often see things that can't be believed. Their eldest brother Lomys however, repairing an old axe by the shed, decides to humor them:
"And what is it this time? A grumkin, or a snark?" says Lomys.
"Strangers!" says Calissa.
This detail gives Lomys pause. It's not often they get travelers this far from the main road - small folk don't have enough coin to make them worth a merchants detour. Most folks head west for the Sunhouse or the town of Cuy around it. Who would come out to this lonely corner of the Reach?
The twins arrive at the door of the shed, panting from the run.
"They were wearing funny clothes," begins Leander, catching his breath.
"Funny how?" asks Lomys.
"Funny all over," says Calissa.
"They're wearing long white and red shirts," says Leander, "and funny blue cloaks-"
"They tied them on crooked," says Calissa, "over their shoulder instead of in the middle, and the cloaks don't go all the way to the ground-"
"- and they're not wearing shoes, they're wearing wood sandals-"
"-and they have funny hair!"
"Yeah! One of them is a girl with long black hair, and the other is shaved bald except for a line of hair on the top of his head-"
"Like a horse's hair!"
"Yeah!"
The twins laugh.
Lomys isn't sure they're playing pretend anymore. This is a little more detail than they can usually come up with.
"Were they coming this way?" he asks.
"I think so," says Calissa, "they saw me and Leander and they pointed to us and waved."
"We thought we should tell momma and poppa that we might have guests coming," says Leander.
Lomys peers into the eyes of his little brother and sister.
"Go inside with momma," says Lomys, "go help her get ready."
The twins run off, shouting to their parents of the two strangers and their amusing appearance. Lomys hammers the last wooden wedge into the axe's head to keep it from jostling about and takes an experimental swing. He brushes his brown hair away from his blue eyes and looks over toward the hill from where the two twins came running but sees no one approaching in the distance. Strangers, so far from the road? Lomys gives a pensive hrmmm. With his eyes still on the hill he walks out to the wheat field to speak with his father.
"Poppa," says Lomys.
"Ah, you fixed the axe," says his father, Cleyton, absentmindedly. Cleyton takes one last swing and then lets the scythe down. There's only a day's worth of wheat left to be reaped and Cleyton looks on at his handiwork, satisfied.
"Yes, the axe ought to work fine now," says Lomys, then: "the twins say there are two strangers coming to our house."
"Two strangers, eh?" says Cleyton, "were they carrying swords or anything like that?"
"I don't know," says Leander, "the twins only said that they wore strange clothes."
His father hrmmms and thinks for a moment.
"Well if they had swords I imagine the twins would have said so," says his father, "you know how they like stories about knights and adventures. I'd imagine a sword would be the first thing they'd look for," Cleyton chuckles.
"Strangers could be dangerous," says Lomys.
"They could be," says his father, "but without swords, with only two of them, I don't imagine they're looking for trouble."
"There could be more of them," says Lomys.
Cleyton arches an eyebrow, notices his sons grip on the axe.
"I suppose so," says his father, "but I don't reckon there are. We're too far out of the way," he takes another pause for thought, "It might be that they're lost, which might explain their strange clothes. You know, the twins have never seen the finery of lords and ladies, maybe that's what they saw? It could be that the strangers are highborn and lost. Maybe they'll reward us handsomely for providing them food and shelter."
Cleyton smiles.
Lomys gives him an incredulous look.
"I suppose we'll have to greet them to see what the case may be," says his father.
Being the man of the house Cleyton returns to the cottage to speak with mother and to prepare to greet the guests. Lomys returns to the stump behind the shed to finish chopping wood with the newly repaired axe. He lines up a block of a wood and splits it cleanly in two, then another and another, until he falls into a rhythm.
Caravans of merchants travel in and out of Cuy, and like wolves following a herd, the bandits are never too far behind. And why wouldn't they wander up here? Bandits have nothing to fear so long as they only steal from the smallfolk instead of the highborn. The smallfolk don't have any guards; all they have are rusty farm scythes and shoddy axes and the meager hope that they don't have anything worth stealing. These and other thoughts wander through Lomys' mind as he works. He tries to set on mind on other things, but there's something in the way the axe splinters wood that won't let him.
When he's finished and gathering up the firewood he spots the two strangers the twins were talking about, coming over the hill now. It's as they said: large blue tunics, something between shirts and dresses, and long heavy blue cloaks with a brown trim that are tied at one shoulder instead of in front. One is a woman with long hair and the other is a man with hair in a line, like a horse. Lomys also sees the things the twins didn't mention: both the travelers have soot black hair and skin the color of burnt umber. He stares for a few moments - he's never seen such people before. As they come closer more details come into focus. The man has a piercing on his lip and tattoos on the side of his face, while the woman has a piercing in her eyebrow and a jade stud under her lips. Both have little loops of gold pierced all up and down their ears and the sight of these causes Lomys to wince in pain as he feels ghosts of the piercings in himself.
As the strangers approach the family cottage his father shouts a greeting to them and the two strangers shout something back in a foreign tongue. At this his father tilts his head in surprise. Lomys' mother, hearing the foreign tongue as well, comes out from the cottage to investigate.
"Cleyton," says his mother to his father, "did you understand that?"
"Not a single word," says Cleyton. He smiles and waves to the strangers.
"Foreigners then," she says.
"I suppose so," says Cleyton , "if they speak foreign they probably are foreign."
"Essosi?" asks his mother, then she answers herself, "not like any Essosi I've ever seen."
"You've seen many Essosi have you?" asks Cleyton playfully.
"You know what I mean," says his mother, "and besides, what are they doing here? There's nothing here but us."
"The Sunhouse is near," says Cleyton.
"There are much finer halls in Westeros for Essosi to visit than the Sunhouse," says his mother.
"Don't speak ill of the Cuys," says Cleyton.
"Or what? They know it just as well as anyone else," says his mother.
The strangers - smiling and in good spirits - approach the couple.
"Niltse," say the two foreigners in unison. They say something else, something lengthy in a sing song sort of language with curious consonants. Lomys stops working and watches them from out on the field. They place a hand over their hearts and then extend their hand to shake. Although their words might be strange the outstretched arm is familiar sight and Lomys' parents shake hands. Lomys espies his little brother and sister also watching their parents, mouths agape, both of them peeking from around a rough hewn corner of the stonework cottage.
The foreigners speak in their foreign tongue and do a lot of pointing and gesturing as they do so. It's not clear what their meaning is; watching them one gets the sense that they might be lost. The smallfolk offer a few conciliatory words, but nothing gets across and so they give sheepish smiles, unsure of what else to offer. The foreigners aren't keen to surrender their attempts at conversation however, and through considerable repetition and play acting a few things manage to get sorted out. The strangers seem to motion to a place far away and they make wide gestures of gratitude and wonder. Names are exchanged: the woman is named Citlali and the man is named Akatzin.
At this point the foreign woman Citlali takes off her pack and rummages through it to retrieve a book, simple and bound in grass colored leather, emblazoned with the image of a sun, or something like it. With book in hand Citlali shows the smallfolk the pages. They contain colorful pictures of people and things, with every picture joined by some foreign writing just underneath. Citlali turns through a few pages, pointing and saying some of the words.
"Ailuikatl," says Citlali. She points to an image of wavy blue lines.
"I think they want us to read it Layla," says Cleyton.
"Well that's no good," says Layla, "the only person in this family who knows his letters is you, and you hardly know them at all."
"Nimitstiatlautia," says Citlali.
Neither Cleyton nor Layla know how to respond, so they smile and nod.
Out by the shed Lomys tosses the last of the firewood to the pile. He keeps the axe on his belt and walks over to hear better. When he nears the cottage Leander and Calissa come out from around the corner and follow behind him, gathering at his legs as they watch the foreigners. At the sight of the twins Citlali and Akatzin smile and make the gentle cooing sounds that all people make toward children. Citlali moves the book so that the pages are clear to the twins. She points to the page, showing a depiction of people shaking hands and says:
"Niltse," she pauses, "inin, Niltse."
The twins look at the page then at her.
"Niltse," repeat the twins.
Citlali smiles and claps her hands together.
"Niltse," says Citlali, and she puts her hand over her heart before extending it to the twins.
"Niltse! Niltse!" say the twins and they take turns shaking her hand excitedly.
A few more games of charades are played and a few more images from the book are excitedly pointed to but this yields little in the form of communication. Not all of the pictures are quite so straightforward, and they all appear to be depicted in such a strange style, besides. Cleyton however, always the gentle patriarch, manages to convey an invitation to the foreigners for supper. Layla sets to work serving the stew while Cleyton and the twins entertain the strangers with a brief tour of the inside of their modest home.
Lomys is absorbed in watching the mannerisms of the strangers. The two of them inspect the cottage with a mix of squinty-eyed curiosity and genuine surprise. Citlali makes it a point to touch nothing and only moves her head about the objects of her curiosity, like a bird, while Akatzin seems more than happy to poke or tap on things to test their strength.
The twins follow Citlali around, picking things up and showing them to her.
"Boots!" says Calissa, holding up her father's shoes.
"Euateuatl," says Citlali.
"These are boots!" says Calissa again.
"Bootuh," says Citlali.
The twins laugh.
Once Akatzin is done examining the stew pot he steps aside to peer out the window. Layla takes the opportunity to begin serving supper and ladles the rabbit stew into eight bowls. At this the strangers cease their meandering to watch the food be served. They become suddenly very hesitant about all their movements; Cleyton must persuade them to be seated with a few more sweeping motions. After that's done Layla serves the bowls to the family. Akatzin and Citlali wait for the family to begin eating before they deign to pick up their spoons. Once they do however they only glimpse at the food before wolfing it down, holding the bowls up to their mouths to hasten the process, finishing their meal before the family has time to start. Afterward they sit politely, occasionally muttering a few phrases to one another while pointing to this or that as the family eats supper.
Now that he's seated close to the strangers, Lomys takes note of their foreign features. Both have high cheekbones and hawk like noses. He searches for Citlali's eyes and when their gazes meet for a moment he notices they're the green of fresh grass shoots.
"Well, this will certainly be worth telling people about when we go into town," says Layla, "we're entertaining Essosi!"
"I don't think these are Essosi," says Cleyton.
"Oh, so now you know about Essosi eh?" asks Layla.
"Essosi don't wear cloaks," says Cleyton, "it's warm in Essos."
"They have winter in Essos too you old fool," says Layla.
"Let's not fight in front of our guests," says Cleyton. He smiles at the foreigners.
"It's not like they can understand us," says Layla.
"They can hear the tone of it," says Cleyton.
"If they're from Essos, what are they doing here?" asks Lomys.
"Maybe they're lost," says Calissa.
"Can they stay with us?" asks Leander.
This question doesn't end up needing an answer, as after supper the foreigners bow in gratitude and make their way to the door. They perform another series of charades and then Citlalti presents the family with the book they showed them before, as a gift. The twins reach for it eagerly, their eyes wide with surprise, and they look to their parents to see if they can take it. Their father cannot refuse his children such a gift and he nods to give his permission. Once it's in their hands the twins look back at Citlali with astonishment. Only the oldest son arches an eyebrow. The twins flip it open to begin poring over it but before they can do so Citlali places a hand on the pages to stop them. She points to one page in particular. It contains a simple picture of two people with one walking away from the other while looking back and waving.
"Aneh," says Citlali.
"Aneh!" say the twins in unison.
With this the strangers depart.
LOMYS ENDEAVORS TO BE RID OF THE BOOK
As the hour is late, Cleyton puts the book on a high shelf to save his children from the insomnia of curiosity. It can be dealt with in the morning.
Early in that morning, just before the dawn light peeks over the horizon, Lomys lies awake and begins to wonder if the book is cursed. What sort of person goes out and gives away a book of gibberish? Books are lordly things, Maesterly things - things, in other words, coveted and owned by people with means. From his straw bed, Lomys looks out the doorway of his chilly room into the main room of his family's cottage. The book sits on a shelf just out of sight. He imagines it's dimensions in his mind now: a hand and a half in length and height, tough leather binding - in green! - and that odd circular insignia.
Lomys decides he needs to read the book, to know what the foreigners know and, possibly, what they intend. For the sake of protection.
He rises slowly from the straw so as to avoid creating too much noise. If the twins hear him wake up they'll whine to see it - like they did when his father brought them sugared plums - loud enough that their parents will wake up. Then it'll be straight to chores. Once up from his bed he sneaks through the quiet cottage to the shelf but finds the book missing. He notices also that the twins are missing from their beds. His eyes adjust to the dawn twilight and he spots them sitting on the floor, looking over the book in silence.
Lomys tip toes to them and they speak in whispers to avoid waking their parents. They pull the book away from Lomys at first, but they're happy to tell him what they've discovered. Leander tells him that the book is lighter than it looks at first; that the cover, while colored in the green of weeping tree leaves, smells strangely of dirt; that the pages are thick and tough, and, are difficult to tear or wrinkle, although he promises he hasn't tried it. Calissa tells him the cover has a picture of either a sun or a ring, or maybe it's both; that while the pictures don't seem to tell a story they have colors like bright flowers; that Leander licked one of the pages to see if it tasted like anything even though she told him not to. This triggers the beginning of a fight between the twins and to head it off Lomys suggests they all go outside so they might have better light to see with.
Being the older brother, as soon as they step outside Lomys plucks the book up out of the twins' hands. They draw in their breaths to protest but Lomys puts his finger to his lips and then motions to their parents room. For a moment he's not sure if they'll protest anyway, but they're getting older now and they're getting chores now too. They also don't want to start the day early.
Seated at the east wall of their cottage, Lomys opens the book to first few pages. He recognizes the pictures Citlali pointed out before, the ones with the people shaking hands and the people parting ways. There are a few more pictures in this vein, pictures of folks talking, gathering, laughing, crying, and the other various gestures of humanity. Lomys notices that all the people depicted have umber skin like the strangers had, and styles of hair even more strange.
"Jump ahead," says Leander, "these pictures are the boring ones."
"And they don't have as many colors either," says Calissa.
Lomys does as they say and stumbles onto depictions of flowers. They float amongst the blank whiteness on the page as if suspended in the air. Bright blues, deep greens, and ruby reds give the sense that these flowers might still be alive.
"I've never seen flowers like these," says Lomys.
"Me neither," says Calissa, "do you think they're real?"
"Of course not," says Leander, "they're just pictures."
"They might be real," says Calissa, "right Lomys?"
"They might be," says Lomys. He touches the page and feels only the paper. This ink cannot be felt with fingers.
"They might be from somewhere far away," mutters Lomys.
"Maybe that's what the flowers are like where they're from," says Calissa.
"Maybe," says Leander, "anyway. Look at this Lomys."
Leander flips a few more pages ahead and opens to two adjacent pages, each with a picture of a head and shoulders, of a man on one and a woman on the other. Unlike the previous images of people, which were stylized depictions, these are truer to life. Both of them show a number of piercings: the man has pierced ears in the low spot where one would expect but also in three other spots up along his ears, as well as rings pierced into his lips and a ring around the nose like a bull. The woman has only a single ear piercing that appears to leave a hole out of the skin of her earlobes, large enough to fit a finger through, ring piercings along her eyebrows, and a single jade stud in the space between her lips and her chin.
"Turn the page," says Calissa, squirming, "I don't like these."
"They look like they must hurt!" says Leander, teasing.
"Turn the page!" says Calissa. She's turned her head away but can't keep herself from peeking.
Lomys turns the page a few more times, skipping images of other piercings and curious scars along the head and body, and finds images of a naked man covered in strange tattoos.
"The naked pictures!" says Calissa.
"Oh they're not a big deal," says Leander, "look, this one has a falcon on his shoulder."
Lomys closes the book.
"This book isn't for children," says Lomys.
"Why?!," say the twins in unison.
"Those pictures are immoral," says Lomys.
"Not at all the pictures are like those ones!" says Calissa.
"Yeah!" says Leander, "besides, we looked at all the pictures already, it's not like we don't know what they look like!"
"Well then I guess you don't need the book anymore then do you?" says Lomys.
Leander goes to protest but realizes the admission he's made. Calissa realizes it too and gives her twin brother a mean look.
"Go play somewhere else," says Lomys and he shoos them away.
The twins make a couple of minor protests but in the end they give into their older brother's command. They wander off to pester the chickens, leaving Lomys the east wall of their family cottage clear and to himself. He opens the book once more to the pictured of the tattooed man. He's heard of how barbarians like the Dothraki tattoo themselves, but he never thought such markings could be as intricate as this. The patterns on the man's skin appear in all sorts of strange geometric patterns, containing fine details which Lomys imagines must be difficult to make. Strange patterns runs up and down the man's body, out to his arms and legs and up onto his head, asymmetrical and confusing. On the next page there is a woman, naked and tattooed as well, but her tattoos appear to be more orderly and focused on symmetry, so that a line could be drawn right down the middle of her and get mirror images on either side. Lomys marvels at seeing so much of her and her brown skin. His mind wanders to Citlali and for a moment he wonders if she has tattoos like these.
Lomys shakes his head. He turns more pages and finds more bewildering things: fruits and vegetables of unknown origin, beasts and birds unlike anything he's known, a collection of clothing as fine as it is ludicrous. Curiosity is in full control of him now and Lomys finds himself turning the pages faster than his eyes can decipher their meaning. Buildings of strange make and material, sharp cruel-looking objects that must be weapons, and intricate jewelry made of thin gold and precious stones. Near the end he finds a recreation of the image on the cover. This time however it makes up the center of a line of images - a progression that shows the sun slowly being eaten away by darkness, like a waxing moon, until it's a black circle with a red ring of flames. The pictures that follow this image are ominous: rotting food, starving people, dead livestock, bloody combat, and always in the sky that same black sun.
Cursed, decides Lomys; foreigners working on behalf of the Stranger. Foreign warlocks hoping to conjure trouble.
From inside the cottage he hears something stir. Now aware of his chances of being caught, he sneaks back into the cottage and places the book back on the shelf. He slips outside without letting the wood floor creak. Hopefully when his parents look through it and see the black sun they'll agree with him about the book. Lomys goes out to find the twins already going about feeding the chickens
In the evenings Cleyton likes to whittle while seated on an old stump at the edge of the family's plot of land. From that spot one can look to the north and see the rolling green hills give way to the lush plains of the Reach, or to the east where the dry foothills of the Red Mountains begin. Together these provide a vast frame for watching the tall clouds drift by and the cool wind work across the grass in waves like water. As Lomys approaches his father he can see that this time he's whittling a little figurine, in the shape of one of the foreigners, with a cloak tied at one shoulder. Lomys doesn't take this is as the best of signs. For his whole life Cleyton has been a soft hearted man and Lomys can easily imagine his father insisting on keeping the book, for sentimental purposes.
"Poppa," says Lomys.
"Good evening son," says Cleyton.
"Poppa, I started looking through the book those foreigners gave us-"
"Citlali and, what was it? Akatzin," says Cleyton.
"Yes," says Lomys, "have you seen the pictures toward the end? Of the black sun?"
"I have," says Cleyton, "it's probably some foreign fairy tale I imagine."
"Poppa...," begins Lomys, "strange people with strange books, couldn't it be...couldn't they be...warlocks? Witches? Something like that?"
"I would have thought you too old to believe in witches," chuckles Cleyton.
"You know what I mean," says Lomys, "this could be a dangerous book they've given us."
"Then why would they give it to us?" asks his father, "if it's dangerous to use they wouldn't entrust it to strangers, and if it's cursed I think we'd have known by now. Besides, it's not like we're going to keep it."
"We're not?"
His father shaves off some of the excess wood around the figure's head so that its hair resembles a horse's mane.
"No, your mother made the good point that it won't do us any good. After all, what use is a book in a language we don't even speak? I couldn't disagree with her. Better to sell it, get you kids something warm for when winter comes."
Lomys smiles in relief, but hides it after a moment.
"I would have preferred to keep it though," says his father, "we don't really have anything to pass down, and it's a pretty thing. Could've made for a family heirloom."
Satisfied that he needn't do any more persuading Lomys bids his father a good evening and heads back into the cottage. The smell of a root vegetable stew fills the air, mixing with the smell of the burnt wood from the fire. He says good evening to his mother, who tells him to prepare the table. The book sits up on the shelf. He's glad that his family will be rid of it. He would have preferred burning of course; fire is cleansing, and he's got no doubt that that's exactly what's needed now. Selling it works out much better though, if he's honest with himself. The family's blankets are modes, thin, and in need of replacement. A silver stag or two would go a long way this coming winter.
THE LORD OF STARFALL HOSTS A FOREIGN DELEGATION
Early one morning a large foreign ship is espied by riders on patrol, out along the southwestern coast of Dorne. The pace of the foreign ship suggests that it will reach Castle Starfall, up north near the Torrentine's delta, in a few days. The riders decide to send a raven to make House Dayne aware of these foreigners - they must be foreigners, nothing else can explain the strange make of their curious swan ships - and to announce the coming of outriders who will give a more detailed report of this strange vessel.
Their raven flies north along the coast riding the warm thermals rising up from the dry Dornish landscape. Once in the ravenry of Castle Starfall the raven surrenders it's message to Maester Cidrio, who in turn delivers it to the high tower of Allyria Dayne. But the words make no lasting impression on the stewardess of House Dayne. She thinks to herself: if the ship is foreign then that means they aren't from the Sunspear. If they're not from Sunspear then they can't be from Prince Doran, which means it has nothing to do with her cousin Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar. And that is what's important.
So the raven's message goes unremarked upon.
One morning a few days later, up in the same southward facing tower, Lady Allyria looks out toward the Torrentine's Bay. From her pale stone window frame she can make out the line in the bay where the freshwater of the Torrentine meets the saltwater of the Sunset Sea and the color of the waves change from a clean blue to murky azure. Out on the blueness a few merchant ships float idly under the pleasant morning sun and in the distance a few of House Dayne's own galley's patrol the waters. In the farther distance she can see the shape of a large ship approaching. She thinks about the message from the outriders again. Essosi traders most likely, supposes Allyria of the foreign ships, men from the Free Cities looking for a market. Ser Darrion Brownstone would best be suited in dealing with them - his dark skin seems to put Essosi at ease - and Maester Cidrio, fluent in eight languages, will accompany him to make sure that there are no misunderstandings. A simple matter. By the time her lady's maids come to her room to dress her she's already forgotten about the approaching vessel. As she looks at herself in the mirror with her violet blue eyes, smoothes her honey brown hair, and adjusts her lavender dress, she remembers only that she needn't be worried about them.
When the outriders finally arrive at Castle Starfall later that day they make a tremendous amount of noise. From inside the feast hall where Allyria lunching with her nephew Edric Dayne, the young Lord of Starfall, she can hear the faint sounds of shouting in the distance as the castle's guardsmen search for Ser Brownstone. Allyria's ear perk up but she doesn't let it bother her - Ser Brownstone will make her aware of whatever she needs to be made aware of. Edric for his part seems not to hear the shouting, or if he does, he ignores it. The yellowed haired young boy has ignored a lot of things ever since he returned from the north.
After lunch and after the commotion dies down Ser Brownstone finds Allyria in one of the hallways of Starfall and says to her:
"My Lady, you must speak to the outriders. The Maester and the little Lord should speak to them as well."
"What's the matter?" asks Allyria.
"It would be easier if you simply heard the men out yourself my Lady," says Ser Brownstone.
Lady Allyria, stewardess of Starfall until young Edric comes of age, summons a gathering in the Lord's solar to hear the rider's report. The solar is made of pale stone, like all of Starfall, shined so that the light that comes in from the grand glass windows reflects off of angled walls and illuminates the room. Allyria and little Lord Edric sit at the head of the room as if they were king and queen while Maester Cidrio and Ser Brownstone stand on either sides of them, ready to offer counsel. Along the left side of the room on a raised platform a few representatives of the other noble families of Starfall gather together with a bland curiosity to see what the business in the royal court will be today.
The guardsmen sent as outriders enter the solar with the regular fanfare. Ser Brownstone introduces them, the two men approach the stewardess and the little Lord and they bend the knee. They are asked to give their report and so they begin describing what they saw:
A ship made of a light colored wood - almost yellowish - painted in clean streaks of green, red, black, and white, with a number of oddly stylized glyphs of flowers or perhaps animals carved into it's sides. The vessel is massive - three times as long as one of House Dayne's war galley's, at least - consisting of four tall masts flying flags in the shape of triangles, points flapping in the wind. Each triangle bears a curious and colorful herald of unknown origin: one of three red and green lines, one of four black and white feathers, and one of a strange yellow cross. At the ship's bow, carved out of jade, is a figurehead in the shape of a woman in a dress wearing gold jewelry, her two arms stretched up in front of her as if offering a gift. All in all a strange thing to behold, as vibrant as it was alien.
"I can't say I've ever heard of banners such as those..." says Maester Cidrio ponderously. The wrinkles in his face seem to deepen and his gray brows furrow as he peers into the distance and thinks. He leans back a little and the rings of his Maester's chain clink together.
"Some creative sellswords then," offers Lady Allyria.
"Not just sellswords my lady. Our outriders here are describing carracks - swan ships, like the ones from the Summer Isles - vessels that are beyond the monetary reach of common sellswords," says Maester Cidrio. Then turning back to the riders, "and, you say you saw one with four masts? Hah! That's- hah, well, that's..."
A brief silence falls over the Lord's solar.
"Are you sure this is what you saw?" asks Cidrio of the two riders.
The men nod.
Maester Cidrio thinks a while longer. Allyria can see the copper ring that signifies a mastery of history jingle about his chain. A back and forth between caution and curiosity plays across the old man's face as he ponders the riders' report.
"So the ship is big," says Ser Brownstone, "which means the owners are dangerous."
"Or simply rich. That's the real question isn't it? Are they trading vessels or warships?" asks Allyria. This question is addressed to Brownstone and the Maester, but also to the two riders.
"I saw no catapults or archers posted at their rails milady," says one of the riders, a gruff dark skinned sandy Dornishman, "but I saw a good number of men on board the vessel."
"Men and women, milady," says the other rider, this one an olive skinned salty Dornishman.
"The presence of women doesn't necessarily mean anything," says Ser Brownstone, "the Sand Snakes are women."
"It could just as easily be that the women are traders," says Maester Cidrio.
Another contemplative pause.
"What else did you see?" asks Allyria of the outriders.
"The first riders who spotted the ships said there were two of them, milady," says the dark-skinned sandy Dornishman, "and some local fishermen say that they saw those two ships as well as one other, farther out from shore some days ago."
"So there are three ships then?" asks Ser Brownstone.
"Yes milord," says the olive-skinned salty Dornishman, "the one approaching Castle Starfall was the largest of the three, but no one along our coasts knows where the other two went."
"Where the other ships four-masted vessels as well?" asks Maester Cidrio.
"No Maester," says the salty Dornishman, "the fisherman say the others were just three masted."
"Still impressive," says Cidrio.
"Thank you for your report," says Lady Allyria. With the slightest of nods she bids them farewell. At this signal the riders bow their heads then turn and exit the lord's solar.
"Shall I rally the riders my lady?" asks Ser Brownstone. "We will want to take precautions in case this four-masted ship is unfriendly."
"We can send an entourage to meet with them but I don't think we need to rally anything. Even if they have a larger ship, we still have our galleys, as well as riders along the coast. I can't imagine they'll want to start trouble with just their one ship," says Allyria.
"Their three ships, my lady," corrects Ser Brownstone.
"Only one of which has entered the bay," says Allyria, "the others aren't our concern, at least not immediately."
"No they wouldn't risk a fight, especially not with a ship of such expensive make," says Maester Cidrio, more to himself than to the court, "a four masted ship is, well - I would need to alert the Citadel. This would be the first sighting of such a thing since the time of Old Valyria! This could be historic, if it's true."
"We should still plan for the worst," says Ser Brownstone, perplexed by the old Maester's curious new energy, "I don't know if I enjoy the idea of facing an historic enemy."
Allyria is about to open her mouth to speak but becomes aware suddenly that her nephew hasn't yet said a single thing.
"Perhaps we ought to hear what the Lord of Starfall has to say," says Lady Allyria.
She looks over to her left where her nephew Edric Dayne sits on the pale stone throne of Starfall. Two and ten years and only just returned to her from his wanderings in the north. But after his fanciful accounts of a resurrected Beric Dondarrion and a fugitive Arya Stark - stories no one really believed - he wouldn't speak any more about his time as a squire. Or about anything at all. The boy is not morose or moping, he's simply silent. At first Allyria could understand the tendency - the life of a squire can sometimes lead young boys to sights of carnage - but it's been four months since his return and he remains just as taciturn as when he first arrived. Allyria's made it a point to defer to his judgement on matters before the council both as his due as Lord, but also to try and draw him out. It doesn't usually work. The boy always goes along with what the council decides with a silent nod of the head and he hardly ever inquires about the reasoning behind the choices made.
Now, however- now she can see his dark blue eyes looking up from their favorite spot on the floor and watching the two riders walking out of the solar. His pale yellow hair almost looks unsettled, wild, as if he'd only just woken up. Like Maester Cidrio he also stares into the far distance of thought.
"They're foreigners?" asks Lord Edric Dayne.
Maester Cidrio, still lost in thought, mouths the word four.
"I believe they are, aren't they Maester?" asks Lady Allyria.
"Hmm? Ah, yes, of course, they'd have to be," says Cidrio, "whoever could finance such a feat of shipbuilding would need to be some foreign nobility or city-state. Someone with a shipyard, someone who employs highly skilled craftsmen. I suppose they could have commandeered the ship but considering what armaments carracks tend to have, that seems unlikely."
Edric thinks for a moment.
"Emissaries ought to be well received by the lord of the castle, so as to avoid any undue misunderstandings," says Edric.
Up on the platform where the nobles of Starfall watch there comes a wave of murmuring. Many of them haven't heard Edric speak since his return.
"A wise decision my Lord," says Ser Brownstone with no small amount of surprise, "but perhaps it would be best if I spoke to them on your behalf."
"I would agree with Ser Brownstone," says Lady Allyria. Also surprised to hear her nephew speak, she begins slowly, "...he's a reliable hand in diplomacy and I'm sure he's up to the task." The boy is too young for this sort of thing, Allyria thinks to herself. It's wonderful that he seems engaged for once, but why this of all things?
"Ser Brownstone will escort me," says Edric, "should the Lord of Starfall ask for counsel from his head military man, he will ask for it."
Allyria, a little surprised to see her shy nephew speak with such authority, lets the matter lie. Perhaps the time has come to let him make his own decisions.
Messengers are sent ahead to inform the guards at the docks that they should prepare for the arrival of their Lord. Edric rides off with Ser Brownstone, Maester Cidrio, and thirty fighters, all on horseback headed down toward the docks of Starfall. Lady Allyria watches them leave from atop the Palestone Sword, the tallest of Starfall's towers, and can see their horses kick up dust as they shrink with distance. Out past them toward the the bay she can see the foreign ship approaching from the opposite direction. The four masted ship is impressive to behold even at this distance - it dwarfs the fishing boats of the smallfolk and it looks like it wouldn't have much trouble against her House's war galleys.
All around the dock she can see the smallfolk congregating, a jumbling mass of dark silhouettes, gathering around the water to gawk at the incoming arrivals. As the ship pulls into the harbor the sails are pulled up and its figurehead, the woman offering a gift, eases alongside one of the long wooden docks.
What would foreigners want with Starfall?, Allyria asks herself. It could be that they're on their way to Oldtown or the Citadel and simply got lost. But if they the have knowledge to make a four masted ship, how could they not have maps? They might be far flung travelers from distant Essosi lands, one of the more remote and enterprising Free Cities, perhaps. If that's the case then it's good that Edric went to go see them - they may be diplomats, and House Dayne cannot afford to be turning away diplomats. Allyria turns away from the window and sends for the kitchens to prepare a feast fit for a delegation of nobles. She makes it clear to the servants that they're to slaughter the fattest heifer, to use the good virgin olive oil, and to uncork some of the dark Dornish vintage, the kind that's thick as blood and sweet to the taste.
The maids and the cooks set to work but Allyria doesn't go down to the feast hall or the kitchens to oversee them. Many of the servants have been around since back when Alistaire and Arthur and Ashara were still alive, back when Allyria - youngest of the four - would wander through the kitchens helping Old Meria, the head cook, with whatever needed doing, back before the whirlwind years of Robert's Rebellion, before she knew how to tie a noose. The bustle of the kitchens is too much of a reminder, and so instead she remains in her high tower where she can be alone with her thoughts. Edric lives on and he must have a caretaker, and while Ser Brownstone and Maester Cidrio are good men, they are not the same as blood family. And there is no chance that the Darkstar will be able to shape him, not if she has anything to say about it.
Allyria touches the necklace about her shoulders, the Lodestar: a slender chain holding a mount made of the same fallen star-stuff as the greatsword Dawn, holding in place a flawless diamond the size of a grape. The metal of it is pale and has an almost translucent quality, like a kind of ephemeral ivory, furthering the illusion that the necklace is holding a fallen star, the herald of her House. Borne by the women of House Dayne, the Lodestar is meant to represent a woman's place as a man's heart, the moral Lodestar by which he orients his life.
It's late afternoon when the Lord of Starfall departs and evening when Edric and his entourage return. Once the cooks and maids are set on their way she goes back up to the Palestone Sword to see if she can see the men approaching. The reason for their lateness becomes clear: the foreigners all come on foot. In two lines they march, soldiers with dark brown skin wearing feathered helms, red and green cloaks, and leather-like armor, twenty in each row. Between the two rows walk two others, these dressed in blue cloaks. Around them ride House Dayne's men and leading the entire procession is Ser Brownstone, Maester Cidrio and Lord Edric. Allyria sees them approach the castle gates and Ser Brownstone rides up to signal the guards to let them in.
Only the two foreigners dressed in blue, bringing curious leather packs, accept the invitation to dinner; the others stay outside in the castle courtyard, eating supplies they brought and setting up some simple tents as if they were bivouacking out in the wilderness.
The two ambassadors - a man named Yaotzin and a woman named Iyali - make an interesting sight, seated there at the long feast table with the bannermen of castle Starfall. Master Cidrio tried talking to them in each of the eight languages he knows but it was only after he was done trying that they simply pointed to themselves and sounded out their names. Maester Cidrio, hungry to sate his curiosity, followed them throughout the castle proper as Ser Brownstone lead them to the dining hall, pestering them with questions and switching between languages when he did so. Allyria couldn't keep up with his line of questioning but could tell he was getting nowhere. The two foreigners handled his pestering with grace, and seemed somehow accustomed to dealing with this sort of communication barrier.
Yaotzin, a man with skin like a Sandy Dornishman but with cheekbones that place his ancestry elsewhere, has long fine black hair that is pulled back into a simple knot so that the tattoos on his face are clear for all to see. In black ink, a stylized pattern, meant to be a fire perhaps, reaches up the side of his face and up to his left eye. Square gold earrings with abstract animal designs adorn his ears and their weight makes his earlobes droop a little. Presently Yaotzin sits at the table with his arms at his sides. The three gold rings on his brows rise slightly as he smiles to people who meet his gaze.
Iyali is lighter than her partner but her hair is just as black, although she wears hers loose around her shoulders. She has no tattoos on her face but she does have a jade stud in the spot between her lips and her chin as well as small gold piercings all up and down her ears. As Iyali turns her head back and forth, taking in the surroundings of the feast hall, Allyria can see black ink etched into the back of her neck, a tattoo that disappears under the collar of her tunic. Like Yaotzin, Iyali makes sure to smile when she catches someone's eye.
As the feast is brought in by the serving maids House Dayne's banner men chat and speculate about the origin of the foreigners. Although Maester Cidrio tries to explain the various reasons the foreigners aren't Yi Ti - chief among them being that Yi Ti is one of the eight languages he has under his belt and the foreigners don't recognize it - the theory that they're Yi Ti takes hold of the hall anyway. After all, what else could they be? The great houses of Westeros don't sail such ships, and neither do the Free Cities. The Summer Islanders and the merchants of Qarth make trips out this way every now and again, but they usually head to the Citadel if they're heading anywhere. That leaves only Yi Ti. And really, it makes sense: if anyone has the coin and the expertise to sail all across the world it would be the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, where - as stories go - the royalty dine on exotic fish spiced with silver and jade. At this reminder of wealth everyone in the hall becomes a bit more friendly toward their guests. Ser Brownstone notes that even the foreigner's soldiers, common guardsmen presumably, wore gold rings on their faces and fingers openly, in the style of one accustomed to wealth. The other bannermen agree: the captain of the foreigner's little force wears feathers on his helm that have the color and glint of emeralds, and that may be made of same. And did you notice their weapons? Sturdy wooden planks like elongated oars, lined with razor sharp rectangular shards of dragonglass all around the edges. Curved wooden bludgeons that resemble the fang of some massive beast that hold in place a hunk of a strange type of dragonglass - a type that catches the light at certain angles to reveal gold flakes just under its glassy surface. They are brutal and beautiful things to behold.
One of the bannermen, a contemplative sort with a small territory on the coast, wonders aloud if there might be islands out there on the Sunset Sea. Like the Summer Isles but farther away or perhaps even maybe another Sothoryos or Uthryos, given the size of their ships. No one pays him any mind - they're too busy wondering how the foreigners could carve dragonglass with into such sharp clean lines.
Lord Edric Dayne doesn't take part in these discussions but he watches his guests intently from the head of the table. In the boys eyes Allyria can see wonder and awe and she is reminded suddenly of the giggly young boy he was only a few years before. After a moment Lord Edric raises his goblet to toast. Ser Brownstone notices this and follows suit immediately. Allyria raises hers as well, uncertain, and Maester Cidrio raises his a few moments after returning from his ponderings. Ser Brownstone taps his goblet to get the attention of the bannermen. Their muttering settles down and all their cups rise up, so that after a few moments Yaotzin and Iyali look out at the hall, then at each other, then pick up the wine goblets before them and raise them in imitation.
"To our guests," says Lord Edric Dayne, "whoever they may be."
The bannermen have a laugh and repeat: "to our guests!"
And so the eating beings in earnest.
Both Yaotzin and Iyali watch their hosts use knives and forks at first and struggle to imitate the motions with their own hands. As they are the guests they're seated near the head of the table along with Lord Dayne and his close advisors. Maester Cidrio and young Edric can hardly take their eyes off the strangers, marvelling at the way they try to put the basics of fine dining together. Ser Brownstone, seemingly aware of the strangeness of the situation gives Allyria a wry look. Allyria, filled with a sense of surreality as she sits across the table from some tattooed foreigner from half a world away, doesn't notice him.
Yaotzin has trouble figuring whether he wants to have his fork in the left hand or the right, while Iyali stabs into her serving of pork with an elbow high into the air. She looks around to watch her hosts' response to this. Some of the bannermen chuckle to see her struggling, and Iyali takes this as a sign to pull the fork out and try again.
"Like this," says Edric. He holds up his knife and fork and demonstrates how the tines should face down and hold the meat while the knife cuts. Yaotzin gets the hang of it and places a piece of duck into his mouth. He gives a bemused look at the taste but chews happily and swallows, making a show of enjoying the food.
Well mannered, if a bit odd, Allyria thinks to herself.
When the feast concludes Allyria thanks her bannerman and asks that the council of House Dayne be left to confer with the emissaries. Once the servants - wide eyed at the strangers - clear the table Iyali says something and reaches into her bag. She reveals a green book with the image of a sun on it's cover.
"Ah yes, they showed us this book when we first met them at the dock" says Maester Cidrio to Edric, "I think you will be as pleased as I to gaze upon it my Lord."
Iyali opens it to reveal two images. On one page is a picture of two people, with one giving the other a bushel of some exotic plant. On the other the recipient of the bushel has their hand placed on the giver's shoulder and has their head inclined in a nod.
"Tlasohkamati," says Iyali. She and Yaotzin bows their heads like the person in the picture.
"You're welcome," says Edric, smiling in recognition of their gratitude.
With the aid of the book and some clever charades the foreigners begin communicating in earnest. They use their book to show that they're from somewhere far away, pointing to pictures and saying their foreign words. First they point to an image of an ornate circle that is some sort of compass. Iyali points from it's eastern side to it's western side. Then an image of a dock or harbor, a ship like the one they sailed in on, then an image of a coast, then a sea, then a coast again.
"Incredible," says Maester Cidrio.
"So they sailed across the Sunset Sea?" asks Ser Brownstone, "so then - then that would make them Yi Ti!"
"Where you paying no attention at all Darrion?," asks Maester Cidrio, "I studied that distant kingdom at the Citadel. These two don't hail from Yi Ti, or if they do, they're from some region never mentioned before. No. These people are something else."
"Could they be from Sothoryos or Ulthos?" offers Allyria. The words feel strange to hear aloud. Sothoryos or Ulthos are realms talked about only in stories, never in politics. But Allyria recalls the lone bannerman's musings, and now they no longer seem so far flung.
"No," says Edric, "they said they were from the west, those are to the south."
"They might have gotten turned around," says Ser Brownstone, "it's not such a difficult thing to do at sea."
"If they have the expertise to build four masted ships then they certainly have the expertise to draft star charts or other maps," says Maester Cidrio, "otherwise - well, otherwise it would be as if they invented a cart with square wheels. It wouldn't make any sense."
"So there are lands to the west of Westeros? Is that what we're meant to believe?" asks Allyria.
Yaotzin says something to Iyali and Iyali begins to search through the book for something in particular.
"There have been stories," says Maester Cidrio, "though none of them seriously believed."
"What do the stories say?" asks Edric.
Iyali opens the book to pictures of two people dressed in blue like Yaotzin and herself. She smooths out the pages. These people in blue appear to be walking on a journey upon which they encounter another pair of people, dressed in curious leather pants and painted in streaks of red and yellow and white. The council of House Dayne is unsure what to make of this.
"The stories," begins Maester Cidrio, distracted by the images, "say that there is a land on the other side of the Sunset Sea, a land where there is no winter and no death." He ponders the pictures in the book for a moment, "But these are the rumors of sailors - sailors who, I will remind the assembled, also believe in merlings and kraken."
Iyali opens to another pair of pictures, one of a lush green forest with strange plants and the other a city, with great stone roads and stone buildings of a bizarre architecture.
"The sailors might be right," says Edric, "there are strange things in the world."
THE STRANGERS SEEK KNOWLEDGE OF THE REACH
This time they arrive in the morning just after breakfast and they bring with them large sheets of something like dark tough parchment, along with quills and ink. The rest of the family is just beginning to work the chores as the twins go out to greet the foreigners, shouting niltse! The foreigners smile and laugh and respond in kind. The rest of the family watches the twins as they go out and play charades, point to the cloaks of the foreigners, asking if they can touch them. Citlali is happy to oblige them, but Akatzin appears protective of his clean blue cloak. Once they've exchanged smiles with the twins, the foreigners walk to the cottage. Another round of charades is played during which Lomys' family gathers that the foreigners are asking about the book.
"I'm glad we haven't gotten rid of it just yet," says Cleyton, "we'd have looked ungrateful. Lomys, fetch the book."
Despite himself, Lomys does as he's told.
With book in hand Citlali opens to a few pages. One is of a landscape, a valley with some mountains in the background and the next is of a large piece of parchment like the two strangers have with them, and the last is of a man in the center of a circle of people, all of which are bowing their heads to him. Citali then makes a few motions with her hands, first of a mouth talking, then putting it up to her ear as if to listen, then finally making writing motions in the air. As she does each of these she says and repeats a certain word, presumably whatever the word for that action is in their own language.
"They want us to answer questions," says Leander.
"They want to draw a map!" says Calissa.
"You two catch on quick," says Cleyton, happy to see such sharp wits in his children.
"We don't have any maps for them to draw from," says Layla.
"I could draw them a map," says Cleyton, "at least for everything from Cuy to the Red Mountains. I once saw a map of all of Westeros too, I don't know if I could do it all from memory, but it'd be better than nothing."
"Should we be giving foreigner maps of our lands?" asks Lomys.
"Son, I don't know why you're so suspicious," says Cleyton, "I thought I taught you something about guest right."
"I don't think they know what guest right is," says Lomys.
"Maybe," says Cleyton, "but considering they gave us a gift, I imagine they have something similar wherever they're from. Besides, if I draw them a map they might wander off and visit with someone else."
"Is that why they're coming to us?" asks Layla, "for directions?"
Lomys is glad to see that at least his mother has some healthy skepticism.
"Makes sense to me," says Cleyton, "if you were a foreigner in a foreign land you'd probably need help finding your way around."
But poppa is too trusting, Lomys thinks to himself.
A few more charades are played out. Cleyton communicates that he can draw them a map if they allow him to use the quill. Citlali and Akatzin agree, and everyone heads inside to the dinner table to watch Cleyton set out what he knows of Westeros. Normally Lomys and the twins are tasked with regular farm work when the adults discuss matters, but their mother allows them to stay and watch their father work with ink and parchment as if he were a highborn.
The quill the foreigners provide is made of a feather of a bird none of the family's ever seen before, a thin and elegant pine-green-colored feather that shimmers slightly in the light. To the surprise of the smallfolk family their patriarch knows how to grip the quill with his fore finger and thumb and how to draw smooth clean lines with the confidence of a master. The foreigners look on with interest, occasionally nodding to themselves, as if Cleyton's drawing confirms some of their own geographic suspicions.
First Cleyton draws where the cottage is, right in the center of the map. To the north he draws the foothills of the Red Mountains and then the Red Mountains themselves as he makes his way up the map toward the northeast. To the direct east he draws the narrow bay that is fed by the Torrentine, the river that cuts into the mountain range, and on the other side of it he draws the shore of Dorne. There he places a little star to signify the location of castle Starfall, seat of House Dayne. To the south he draws the coastline and the southern sea, and to the south west he draws a little flower to signify the location of the Sunhouse, seat of House Cuy. Around that he adds a few little buildings to represent the town of Cuy. From there he continues west to draw the western edge of the Reach, as far north as Oldtown, before finally finishing with the island that is the Arbor that helps create the Redwater Straits.
"This is just around us," says Cleyton to the foreigners, forgetting they can't understand him, "give me another parchment and I can draw what I remember of Westeros."
This takes another round of charades to communicate.
The map of Westeros he draws is less savvy than the first map. The farther north he draws the more unsure his hand becomes and Cleyton pauses and redraws certain lines, muttering to himself. He marks a few of the important landmarks: Highgarden, Sunspear, King's Landing, Lannisport. After that the landmarks become much more vague: the Reach, the Neck, and the North all look out of proportion with the rest of the map. The foreigners don't appear to notice this. Once Cleyton is done Citlali and Akatzin look the maps over. Akatzin pulls out another scroll, this one also containing a crude map of an area, and they compare the maps while muttering phrases to one another, point at this and that. Lomys takes note of this other map, can see that it shows the land east of his family's farm. On the coastline he sees they've drawn an image of an eye.
Satisfied with the maps Cleyton's given them, Citlali and Akatzin bow their heads. Using the book they convey a message: us, you, help, harvest, work. This is a message that the poor family receives without much confusion. If the foreigners wish to eat with them once more it's only fair that they earn the privilege.
Citlali stays at the cottage to help their mother while Akatzin goes to work in the field with Lomys and his father. Akatzin leaves his cloak at the cottage and in doing so he reveals a tough sinewy body that looks accustomed to labor. Lomys realizes then that he doesn't know how old Akatzin is; his foreign features make him difficult to place. Whatever his age, Akatzin is childlike in his wonder of their little farm. He's distracted for a good long while by the family horse, an aging stot named Whitemane, that he inspects as the beast rests in its stable. He appears surprised by the presence of wheat on the farm and takes a few minutes to inspect and consider what's left of it on the field, as if trying to imagine it when it was full. His hand reaches to pluck out a stalk but before he does so he looks to Lomys, who looks to Cleyton, who nods. Akatzin takes the stalk of wheat and smells it, taking special precaution as he moves his nose close to the head of the stalk. He tears a piece of the head and eats it. Predictably, it tastes terrible, and he makes a grimace with each grinding chew. Lomys looks on, baffled, while Cleyton chuckles.
As the two of them show Akatzin how to work the scythe and where to store the harvest, Lomys can't help but think that this further kindness from these foreigners will change his father's mind about selling the book. Lomys becomes tense when his father hands the harvesting scythe to Akatzin, and remains so when Akatzin swings the scythe, taking care to watch the foreigner's hands. His father's words drift through his mind. Why are you so suspicious. How could he not know? He was there that razor thin moment when Lomys was ten, when they were robbed on their way back from Cuy. The bandits brandished knives and grim faces and took all the coin they made at market. The encounter lasted only a few minutes but it's echoed through Lomys' thoughts ever since then. The family had to go hungry for months. He doesn't know how his father can remain so kind to strangers after that. That's a lie: he knows. It's meant to be some fatherly lesson about kindness and guest right and honor and how we can't let the cruelty of life taint our souls. But ignoring cruelty doesn't make it go away.
The day goes by quick with another pair of hands on the farm for help and evening falls upon before too long. As supper approaches the twins come running out of the cottage to let the men know dinner is served.
In the family cottage Citlali serves up the stew as Layla minds the flame. The twins speak a few words in the foreigner's tongue. Citlali laughs at whatever it is they're saying as the rest of the family gathers at the table. Her laughing draws Lomys' gaze and he looks into the green irises of her eyes for a few moments too long and looks away.
Despite the fact that two of the people at supper can't converse with the others, an easy air settles over the dinner table. The twins ask about Akatzin and then tell their father and eldest brother about how handy Citlali is around the cottage. The two foreigners smile and appear pleased when they hear their names mentioned. After a little while the conversation dies down, as conversations tend to do, and in the lull Lomys sees an opportunity.
"We didn't have many chances to talk while we were working," says Lomys, "did anyone get to ask them about the pictures in the book?"
His parents exchange glances.
"Probably some foreign religion," says Layla, "but no, we didn't ask."
"I was trying to ask Citlali about her dress," says Calissa, "but it took all day and I still don't know how she made it."
"So they're dresses then?" asks Leander.
"There were pictures of death and famine, those have to mean something" says Lomys, "if they're worth putting in a book, they're worth talking about."
"Well, I suppose we can ask them now," says Cleyton.
"But they won't understand us," says Calissa, "Citlali's been teaching us all day and me and Leander still can't tell what she means most of the time."
"I bet I could ask her," says Leander with a confident defiance.
"Then ask her," says Lomys, "ask her why they need pictures of famine and people dying."
"Alright," says Leander. He opens his mouth to speak but he hesitates.
"I'll get the book," says Calissa.
"I don't need it!" says Leander, then, "Citlali."
Citlali turns to him.
"Here I have the book!" says Calissa.
Calissa opens the book to the pages of the dark sun and shows them to Citlali. As Leander struggles to find the words Calissa points to the images of death and famine, and says, "Ixiptli, tleca?"
Citlali looks surprised. She looks to Akatzin, who appears just as surprised, and then back to the family of smallfolk.
"Amatih amo ikualotl?" Citlali asks, bewildered.
The smallfolk look to Leander, waiting for a translation.
"She's surprised," interjects Calissa, "that we don't know that, ah, that...," she pauses then turns to Citlali, "nescayotia Ikualotl?"
Citlali asks for the book, and once it's in her hands she flips to the page with the dark sun.
"Ikualotl," says Citlali.