8

Eddard

His little sister didn't come back to the Eyrie in the evening, nor did she come the following morning. Lady Arryn had to admit that she had sent the girl to the village below on a ladies' charity errand, without telling anyone, but now she was herself alarmed. Should they send a raven right off to inform their father that Lyanna was missing? Robert would say, don't be a pussy, try to figure out first what happened – so he decided to go to the village himself. But should he take Robert with him? On the surface of it, they should obviously go together – Lyanna was Robert's bride-to-be, how could it even be a question. But for some reason Ned was hesitating, as if he sensed that Robert might spoil things somehow, make something go wrong beyond repair.

However that might be, slipping away without Robert's knowledge was not really an option. So once he got his travel things ready, Ned knocked on his friend's door with the massive knocker that had a Baratheon stag on it. Robert had it made for him soon after he first arrived at Lord Arryn's stronghold, after the sudden and terrifying death of his father Lord Steffon in a shipwreck in plain view of Storm's End. If not for this tragic event, marking doors in his host's castle might have been too presumptuous for a new ward, but Jon Arryn's compassion took it as perfectly reasonable that the boy should establish for himself some semblance of a new home under his roof, now that his parents' home was wrecked. As for Ned, it made him look up to Robert with a considerable admiration – how the older boy confidently made himself at home away from home and bought and ordered things that suited his tastes, like a lord and a man grown.

He had to bang the knocker again, and then again, before Robert's sleepy face showed itself in the crack of the door.
"What is it, Ned? Why do you have to spoil a good morning's sleep?"

"You've skipped breakfast, Rob – are you saying it was your deliberate decision?"

"What do you want?"

"Will you let me in?"

Robert growled in exasperation and opened the door to let his friend come in. He plopped back on the bed, trailing the long skirts of his magnificent silken morning gown.

"Robert, Lyanna has gone missing."

The young man jumped as if stung and sat bolt upright.

"What?! How?"

Ned explained that Lyanna went yesterday morning to visit a young girl down in the village, who had just given birth to a baby from an unknown father. When Ned mentioned her name, however, a shade flitted across Robert's face.

"It's our old lady sent her, right?"

"Yes, it was on Lady Arryn's errand."

"What do you think can be keeping your sister?"

"I don't have an inkling, can't even think of any dangers between here and the Moon Gate – except the narrow path, but even that is watched over – we would have heard of it if her horse had slipped, the gods defend."

"Listen, Ned, my guess is – she might want to look around, rode down to the valley, perhaps stayed at an inn or at the Royces'. She should be back soon enough, let's just wait."

Ned couldn't be convinced by this soothing presupposition.

"Glad you are not alarmed, Rob – but I would go down and check in the village in any case."

"All right, chap, once you find her, tell her I can't wait to see my adventurous bride back in the Eyrie!"

Closing the door, Ned wasn't sure if he felt angry and disappointed at Robert's callousness or relieved that he is going alone after all.

Approaching Penny Stokes' cottage, he saw the tenant from afar – she sat in an easy-chair just outside the door with a sleeping babe in her arms, taking advantage of the sweet weather. She greeted him in a low voice:
"M'lord must be kin to the lady who visited me yesterday? You look so much alike."

"Yes, I am her brother, Eddard of House Stark, and you must be Penny Stokes?"

"Penny Stokes indeed I am, and I can even tell that you are looking for your sister, because she is lost."

"Lost?"

Penny smiled an elusively malevolent, servile smile:
"But of course, m'lord, there is a curse on your sister. You better let her alone, she has touched a cursed woman and she caught it, like a plague, there is no rescuing her. 'Tis best now to cut her off altogether, not think about her."

If it didn't come from a young woman, a girl, more precisely, and a new mother cradling a child in her arms, Ned would react to this as mad insolence – but looking at Penny, he inclined to take it for raving madness.

"Penny, I don't know what it is you are saying. Tell me, I beg you: did someone molest my sister while she was here? What cursed woman are you talking about?"

"The curse is here with us, and the molestation; like circles on the water does it spread, and spares no woman alive. Not even this little one." – She bent over the newborn and kissed its coal-black, wild hair.

At this, a lightning struck through his mind, and the pieces of this horrid story all fell together in a flash. His sister ran away in indignation and disgust at what her fiancé has done. And his best friend could no longer be a friend. He could never feel the same for Robert.

"Penny, I see now. I understand."

She looked up at him in disbelief.

"You should know that you can rely on Lady Arryn's kindness – she will not let you or your daughter lack for anything, and when she is gone, I will step in for her. I know where to find you. What is your daughter's name?"

"Mia."

"Beautiful name. May she grow up to be happy and strong, and free – with an eagle's soul, seeing that she was born in such a high place. May my sister's blessing remain with her – because I know Lyanna didn't leave here without leaving some of her blessing at your hearth."

Penny bowed her head in recognition, and a tear glistened at the corner of her eye. Ned considered this as his leave to go, and having bowed to her silently, departed.

There was a tabby cat in Masha Heddle's inn that definitely recognized him: each time he stopped there, she greeted him with a loud purr and scratched her arched back against his boots. He bent down to scratch her between the ears.

Masha, a plump vigorous young woman, greeted him with all the affectionateness reserved for top-tier visitors. The best room of the inn, however, was occupied: a Braavosi high official of the Iron Bank was traveling to the capital. So the innkeeper ushered him to the second-best: a chamber on the second floor with the view of the garden, which right now was in the full bloom of spring.

He threw his bag on the floor, pulled off his boots and sprawled on the bed. It wasn't so much the long ride that crushed him, but the complete darkness that lay ahead: what was he to do? Where to ride tomorrow? Which way could his sister have turned?

On his way out of the Vale, he visited the Royces, sending a raven to the Eyrie with his apologies to Lord Arryn on his sudden departure (he didn't say where) which, he hoped, would be but short. Let the old man figure out what the whole thing meant – he had Robert and his mother to draw upon. Ned wouldn't volunteer information, not in this case. From what he understood at the Royces' (of course he couldn't start asking direct questions, if he didn't want the whole realm to learn of their plight too soon), Lyanna didn't visit them. Well, unless she had explicitly and urgently asked them not to reveal that she did. But they didn't look like they were participating in a conspiracy – they received him quite placidly.

Now he could try listening around at the inn. Should he ask Masha? She knew Lyanna and all their family quite well, so chances were that she would recognize his sister had she stopped there. And she wouldn't feel bound to tell everyone about his quest, especially if her discretion were strengthened by a golden dragon or two.

Ned scrambled up from the bed, splashed for a while at the washing-basin, changed into a fresh shirt (he did make provisions for more than a day's journey) and went down to the common room.

As Masha seated him at a table apart, he asked if he could have a word with her, when she had a few minutes' leisure. She nodded enthusiastic agreement, then placed roasted turkey and onion slices on a trencher in front of him. Making another round among the tables, she then poured wine for him from an earthen bottle into an embossed greenish glass. While eating, he listened intently to whatever bits of conversation he could catch – but people talked of the usual things – planting and sowing, weather, taxes, gossip, the king's newest atrocities – no one mentioned a beautiful, brave noble girl traveling the roads alone, the gods know why or where to.

When Masha finally had a free moment, she sat down at his table, quite close to him. She smelled of apples and a faint glow of fresh mint – a pleasant mix, elegant in its way. It took him a few seconds to gather his wits, while she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye, with a wry half-smile.

"Masha, I need to trust you with my secret – can I ask for your help?"

"Of course, my lord, anything I can do for you." The lingering light of the spring evening was slowly dimming outside the windows, and only a few candles were lit inside yet, so he couldn't figure out for certain what the expression on her face signified: earnestness? Skepticism? Playfulness?

"I am looking for my sister. She left yesterday morning on a small errand, on her own, and we haven't seen her since then."

Masha shook her head in disapproval:
"It's not good for a young lady to travel on her own."

"Of course, Masha, you are right, no one can argue with that. Yet here we are, with lady Lyanna gone out alone and me not knowing where to look for her."

Masha made a pout indicating intense mental work, and then arched her brows:
"Can you tell if there was a man involved in this?"

That gave Ned a pause. How come he didn't think of it himself? That is, he guessed that one man – Robert – was involved in a negative way – she was in all probability escaping the Baratheon match, which, for all she knew, her family wholeheartedly endorsed.

But was there someone she might be escaping to? Did he know enough about his sister to answer this question?

"Masha, this is a most helpful question. Thank you so much! You are truly a brilliant woman."

"How does this help you, my lord?" – she pressed close to his side, tilting her head and glancing right into his face with bold, challenging hazel eyes.

"Oh, well" – he stumbled – "I'm beginning to look over my sister's life in the past few months, trying to see if she had a love interest that I didn't know about. She was about to be engaged, but her prospective match… he is just as puzzled as I am."

"Did he ride another way to look for her? You to the north, he to the south?"

Eddard checked himself against spilling out more about Lyanna, Robert and the whole darned mysterious business that he wasn't sure himself what to make of. It wouldn't be wise, after all, to confide in the keeper of a busy inn something he wasn't yet ready to tell even to his own father.

"We are at a loss where to turn," – he only said.

"Sir Eddard, perhaps it might be wise to turn to your own experience? If you have – no, if you had a love interest – a secret one – what would you want?"

He couldn't fight back the rush of the hot, buzzing sensation in his head and all over his body that flooded him him every time when something brought to his mind lady Ashara Dayne. Clearly he was blushing like a red-hot stove, and clearly Masha saw it plainly, saw directly into his secret that was so flimsily covered – if you could call it "covered" at all. Not only did she see – she was triumphantly, intrusively enjoying it.

He felt like in a duel, when the opponent is overpowering and he is losing his ground and is caught in a whirlpool of retreat and inevitable surrender. And it was delightful.

She felt for his knee under the table. Definitely she sensed both his confusion and embarrassment and his delight in it, and his readiness to go along with her, wherever she took him now.

She took him to his room. The dining hall she left in the charge of the bellboy and the scullion maid.

As she followed him up the stairs, without a candle, he felt an uneasy burning in his chest. What is going to come of this? Didn't he just see the misery, madness and devastation such adventures bring about, this very morning?

Masha unlocked his door with a key from her huge clinking bunch of the most diverse and curious keys.

"Please come in, my most honorable guest."

He stepped over the threshold as if entering deep dark water. The water ran warm.

Her hands were soft and competent, irresistible. The next familiar thing he felt was the homespun rug caressing his bare feet. The rest was unlike anything he had experienced before. He wanted to tell her so, but his tongue didn't seem to be at his command. Masha laughed and seated him on the bed.

"You better be seated, my lord, we cannot trust your legs now. What if you tumble down – you are so big and heavy, I won't be able to drag you onto the bed, and I hate to have my pleasure on the floor."

He was now looking at her in uncomprehending alarm. She kept laughing delightedly, as if he had finally picked up on a clue that she left in plain view for him. Yet he didn't feel like he had picked up on anything. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous – was it with fear? Masha's plump white hands now held the earthenware bottle in front of him.

"See? The wine. Don't be scared, my sweet boy, it's only a little harmless herb called tackweed. With just a touch of poppy. In our parts it's normally used on girls, but it works on men just as well if not better."

He still couldn't talk, but his eyes plainly begged for more explanation.

"Oh," she put her arms around him, pulling him up and steadying him on the bed, and tucked a pillow behind his back. He was already fully naked, she – still fully dressed, just the laces of her bodice were undone, letting loose her swelling breasts and the billows of muslin about them. "This mixture kicks in slowly. First you become all rosy in your mind and gulp up any attentions and advances that come your way. I know because I have been given it too, and then I took it a few times myself, because trust me, it makes for an incredible fuck. So once you've drunk the first dose, it's the best time for hitting on you – and that's what shameless seducers do!"

She laughed with mock malice, licking her finger and teasing the tip of his cock, which was sticking up hard without the least regard for his confused emotions. She was sitting close to him on the edge of the bed, with one leg tucked under her, the green silken skirts airily outlining her delightful round thighs and knees. Noticing his glance, she took his listless hand and slipped it under her skirts, into the warm cleft between skin and skin, also silken.

"Then you will get dizzy, but usually not to the point of dumbness – most people will just lose control over what they say. I like it."

He sighed with some relief – he would hate to get affected in that way.

"And, to be sure, you get very pliable – it becomes very hard to object to anything that's being offered to you, especially something you want already!"

Ned took a feverish breath that he couldn't prevent or disguise.

"If you want the full effect, though, you need to take a second dose. Will you, my brave lord?"

He stared blankly, without giving any sign for either "yes" or "no."

"All right. You need some humoring, I see, to put more heart into you." With these words she stood up, bowed over him and started kissing his hair, stroking his face and lips and ears, and he felt really as if he was unfreezing and she was someone close, someone he had been long waiting for.

"If you say so, I'll drink more." He could talk again.

"Ay! So much better this way." She kissed him on the mouth with loose, soft lips that seemed to melt themselves and melt something hard in him, the last bastion of resistance and reserve.

"But Masha, what if I get you pregnant."

She smiled a broad unreserved smile, and he noticed red streaks on her teeth – he knew it was from chewing sourleaf, but they looked like streaks of fresh blood, and it gave him a thrill of pleasure, for inexplicable reasons.

"I like this turn of conversation, my dear sir! But of course I'm taking my moon tea. I know you are thinking that these can be empty assurances. But it's not in my interest to give birth to a bastard – even if it's by one of the noblest men in the land" – she smiled and kissed him on the cheek – "it won't make me fare better. I'm content with what I have, and people know me and pay me as a chaste owner of a respectable inn."

"How chaste exactly?" – he teased. He was now pretty much himself again – but no, not really – a much more lightheaded version of himself, and someone who knew what to do next.

"Don't worry," – she parried, – "I am not someone who boasts of my conquests."

He pointed at the bottle:
"Shall I?"

"Oh yes, go ahead! I will take a little bit myself too," – she took a long draught from the bottle and passed it to Ned.

He drank all that remained, and she laid him back on the pillows.

"What will it do to me now?" – he asked, only half joking.

"The second portion will make your desire increase inordinately. You will feel very hot and may break a sweat, and your skin will feel every touch twice as sharply." As she was saying this, she sat astride his legs and started caressing his body in long methodical strokes that ended every time just before he'd had enough of her hands' sliding touch. "Your nipples will become sensitive like a woman's" – she added, lying on top of him, and started circling his areoles with her tongue and sucking on the quickly hardening nipples. He groaned and hugged her with his arms and legs. She whispered in his ear:

"The last one wasn't in the books. I made it up. But look how it works on you… And you are really getting hot like an oven. Oh. You're just – so – delightfully – susceptible to words. You are lucky. My tongue is ruthless."

Next morning he couldn't wake up on his own. The deep water of sleep held him and he couldn't find it in himself to move his limbs or open his eyes, until Masha came into the room and sat on his bed.

"Wake up, my precious. I have brought you something to eat. I bet you must be starving."

He realized that indeed part of his weakness was from hunger – as if he hadn't eaten in days.

For some time she just watched him eating.

"I have fancied you for a long time, you know. Even from the time we both were kids," – she confided.

"You know, Masha, now that you are telling me – I think I did notice."

"Oh, sure you would notice – and sure you would bury it again, because you would think I must have been looking at Brandon, not you. But I liked your sobriety, and your self-effacement. And your courtesy – you were a master of it from very early on, and it wasn't a mere formality."

"Oh, Masha, do you want to get me started all over again?" – he laughed.

"And what if I do? Are you loath to think of it now?"

"No, not at all, maybe even the contrary."

"Maybe!" – she teased. – "Looking at your pants there, I would say, sure enough."

He handed the tray with the remainders of breakfast over to her, and she put it on the side-table, then locked her fingers with his.

"But did you have to drug me? Wouldn't I let you have your way just because of your personal charm?"

She looked at him sullenly, in mock accusation.
"You?! No."