Quellon VI
Quellon was beginning to feel a little drunk. He thought it was warranted tonight, though.
Victarion married to Gysella Goodbrother, and Aeron to her sister Gwin. Gorold Goodbrother had driven a hard bargain, but to be married into the family with the largest iron mines on Great Wyk, Quellon had been almost happy to hand over a hefty share in Smithvale.
The double marriage tonight was the perfect way to seal the deal. Now with more iron flowing into Smithvale, their profits could increase yet more.
Quellon finished his mead and glanced around the great hall of Pyke. The guests, ranging from Goodbrothers to Harlaws to Botley to Greyjoys, were now getting roaring drunk. The brides and grooms had been sent off to their separate chambers, and it was time for the part of the feast where the alcohol flowed like a river.
A typical Ironborn wedding to most, but to a trained eye like Quellon's there were details that spoke of the wealth he had brought to the Iron Islands. More rings and necklaces, for one, the food was of much better quality, with more spices and fruits than you would find at a feast seven years ago, and of course the ironwork was exquisite. The apprentices trained by the smiths Quellon had hired from Lannisport were churning out some fine work; candlesticks, plates, flagons, window grates, and of course weapons and armor.
Quellon stood drunkenly to his feet. And of course, the latest letter from Maron said Stannis had been married to Paxter Redwyne's sister. That was good - the Redwynes were the most prominent naval force on the western coast, if they were tied to Stannis it meant they were that much less likely to take up arms against the Greyjoys. Not completely unlikely, if Quellon knew Paxter, but a little less.
Something else in the letter was good news, though Stannis doubtless hadn't seen it that way. Robert had fathered a bastard girl on one of the Dragonstone serving girls. Stannis had taken the fathering of this "Jocelyn Waters" on his own wedding night as a slight, and wanted the girl gone along with her mother. Perhaps he could be convinced to send the girl and her mother to Pyke.
"I'm done for the night. Keep the party going as long as you like," Quellon said to Euron, who had sat beside him through the feast. Euron smiled up at him.
"Can't say I need the encouragement, brother."
Quellon turned and walked out across the covered bridge to the Guest Keep, head swimming with mead.
Drunk already, father? Can't hold your liquor?
Quellon stumbled as he walked through the doors of the Guest Keep. After long years, he had slowly managed to learn how to keep Balon's voice pushed back into his corner of the mind. It drained him at first, but slowly he had been able to block out the mocking voice. Now, though, it was back.
It has been a while since I heard from you, Quellon thought. In his drunken state he might have said it aloud. Quellon opened the door of the Guest Keep and stepped outside, onto the balcony. Before him was the first of the swinging rope bridges leading to the Sea Tower. He closed the door behind him, then froze.
With a sudden leaping sensation, he realized he no longer felt his legs. They began to move, his torso twisting around jerkily.
I will kill us both, father, if only I may be freed of this prison, came Balon's spiteful voice. Quellon realized he was losing control of his own body. Balon moved towards the bridge, lurching towards the left. He intended to jump.
My body, came Balon's grating voice in his head. Quellon saw the edge draw nearer, and reached out - not with his hands, he didn't have those anymore. Grasping wildly with this appendage of the mind, he felt it slip into his left hand, like a hand into a glove. The ledge was before him, a sheer drop to the churning waters of the sea far below.
My...body...not yours. Not anymore, Quellon thought as the hand clenched into a fist. He was sure he did not say that aloud, as he did not control his own mouth.
Damn you - Balon had little time to reply before Quellon brought the fist crashing into his face. The shock sent Quellon back into alertness. Balon retreated, and Quellon reveled in the taste of clean air once more. His limbs returned to his control, but he felt weak. He slumped against the post that anchored the bridge.
The door behind him opened.
"Balon?" asked Euron, a hand axe in his belt and a halfhelm in one hand, "Are you okay?" he asked, an amused smile on his face.
Quellon touched his face, and flinched. When he struck himself, he must have left a large bruise.
"I stumbled against the post, nothing more," he said raggedly, "Why are you armed?"
Euron fastened the helmet on his head and offered his hand to Quellon, his single eye shining in the darkness.
"You had better sober up quickly, brother. Lordsport is burning."
