…

X.

Where Pirates Prowl

As they approached the mouth of Dagger Lake, Duck went into the hold to wake Griff. They both emerged with their mail and boiled leather on and their swords and knives at their belts. Alyce went into the hold to shrug her own boiled leather vest over her clothes. She slipped an extra knife with its strap up around her calf as well. They had not encountered any trouble so far, but it was always worth it to be prepared. Hopefully her little cretin of a dwarf could keep as out of trouble as possible, but then again, he was always a surprise.

She glanced at her bow and quiver, but decided against it. She did not want to appear too worried and cause the boy concern.

The edges of the lake were weedy, but the center looked deep. Brown and sand-colored stone piles on the land and half-submerged in the water were all that were left of whatever proud buildings had once looked over this lake. Some had intricate carvings in them. Alyce noted faded water sprites and dragons with arched necks and webbing between their claws.

She perched on deck near to where Tyrion sat in one of the rickety chairs, her eyes scanning the canals and bends as Duck's, Griff's, and Young Griff's were. Young Griff every so often looked to his father, and once Alyce saw him change his standing position to better mirror Griff's. It had amused her briefly, but not for long. The canals had turns where pirate vessels could easily hide, and though Haldon had assured them that the pirates were almost always after only the more valuable items on ships coming up river from Volantis, she still felt there was something about their boat that might interest curious eyes. Westerosi men in mail, a woman, a dwarf…

Haldon came up on deck and reminded Young Griff they had a lesson to attend to today.

The boy glanced at his father. "I'm needed up here in case there are pirates."

Griff ignored him, as did Duck. Haldon answered patiently, "Even if there are any, they will not harry us. We carry nothing worth the hassle. The more important boats are coming upriver, not down."

It was handled well. The danger was downplayed and Griff did not appear to care one way or another. This fact alone seemed to be what persuaded Young Griff not to ignore his studies for that evening. Alyce suspected Griff was not as ambivalent as he appeared.

The boy, Haldon, and Lemore remained below. Though everyone else remaining on deck did not speak much, the lake was not quiet. Herons, frogs, songbirds, ducks, and bugs infused the air with noise and movement. Alyce swatted away a dragonfly, overwarm in her boiled leather. Though it would not cool her down, she did a series of stretches. Then she did them again. She tied her hard-to-tame black hair back in an imperfect but secure bun, tucking behind her ears what strands would not stay.

Later in the evening as the reddish sun was halfway over the horizon and the lake began to close and narrow again, Alyce felt her apprehension had been misplaced.

The long, stiff reeds cast shadows over the water, and the water reflected the red of the disappearing sun. Docks that might once have once proudly speared over the water and shined with a metallic glint had fallen sideways or sunk into the murk. A few remained usable, jutting outward to allow a boat to anchor at it, but the ends of them disappeared into overgrowth.

The water rippled, she heard the soft sound of wood against wood…

And a boat slid out of a canal to bar their passage.

Yandry could do nothing; they had been making good speed across the wide lake and the wind had them. If not for their poles and those of the pirates, the two boats would have taken damage colliding. As Yandry and Duck braced them with poles and the pirates shouted at each other in Ghiscari, Griff and Alyce drew.

Planks slammed down onto their railing, wide enough for two men to cross abreast. She and Griff rushed them, but six of the seven managed to board them, and they would have been overwhelmed if not for Duck joining the fray and Young Griff hurling himself back up on deck and into the fight with his bastard blade. And no protective gear, Alyce groaned internally. She hoped the other two could protect the boy—she had to keep Tyrion from getting a scar to match his first.

The pirates looked Rhoynish for the most part, though a couple were distinctly Ghiscari; they wore grimaces of surprise at the number of passengers trained at arms. Those belonging to the Shy Maid had mail and better weapons and they soon dispatched two of the pirates; Duck sent one into the lake with a mighty two handed swing that half parted the man's head from his body. Griff easily and swiftly killed another with a jab through his unprotected throat. The pirates obviously had not expected them to be such a difficult conquest; there were shouts in Ghiscari from the pirates, but Griff and Duck barred their retreat.

Alyce was engaged with a sneering, tall man with arms thick as tree limbs. On his jaw and upper lip was a dark shadow from going a few days without shaving. Young Griff had both hands on his blade to her right and was driving back a short, sweaty stump of a river pirate. What looked like the best fighter had engaged Griff, and as they fought, another two went for the hold. Duck gave chase to them and Haldon managed to knife one as he blocked their entrance. The other shoved brutally back out to escape the trap of the hold, then drove toward Duck with a snarl. One of the man's two long knives met the blade of Duck's sword with the shriek of metal on metal.

"A little cully in men's clothes," Alyce's opponent taunted her in the Common Tongue, having recognized the boat's crew for Westeros. But his sneer quickly fell into a snarl of concentration. He could drive her back with a landed blow, but he did not often land one. She kept him moving, missing, following, and bleeding. Well-timed swipes of her best dirk left leaking lips of blood across his chest and arms. She kept an eye on Young Griff and Tyrion out of the corners of her eyes. Young Griff was holding his own while his father was beginning to overcome his own opponent. They fought in the grand but slower style of Westerosi knights, however, whereas she slipped about and jabbed like a snake with claws. She kept her back to Tyrion, always separating him from the pirate.

Suddenly the man she was engaged with leapt back and to the left away from her with a cry of pain and anger. Tyrion had picked up a fallen knife and had slung it into the pirate's upper thigh.

Alyce moved toward the pirate to take advantage of the distraction Tyrion had given her, but the man feinted, and instead of reengaging her, made an angry leap toward Tyrion. Alyce lurched after and her sword blocked him just before he could reach him. She blocked ferociously, but Tyrion was still too close to the fight and, blocking Alyce and shouting venomously in Ghiscari, the pirate managed to kick Tyrion into the chair he was standing near. The dwarf sprawled into the chair and across the deck, bloodying his palms. She slid in under and used all her speed and her skill with her knife and sword to drive the man off and back, anger pumping strength into her blood.

Duck finished off his opponent and immediately moved to protect Young Griff with his sword. The boy appeared to be doing very well, however, and began to drive his pirate toward Duck, grinning through a sheen of sweat. Griff was close to winning his fight. Even if he was not, he would soon be aided by his son and Duck, after the two had dispatched the pirate between them.

"When I am done skewering you, you little sweetmeat," Alyce's opponent snarled, "I'm going to make a hat out of your fuzzy little cunt,"

She parried; slid left. "No one would be able to say you did not have good taste."

He barked a laugh. "You are clever—perhaps I will make a pet out of you." He almost landed a blow but did not. She used his momentary assumption of the upper-hand to get her footwork ahead of him. She drove him further back and away from his boat and retreat.

"By all means chain me up," she japed lightly. She curved her lips in an alluring smile, eyebrows flitting upward. "We might like it so much you might never make that hat."

Surprise and piqued sexual interest flashed across the pirate's face, and his surprise was just the moment she needed to feint, block with her sword, and slash the man deep across one knee. As he pitched forward with a snarling shout, she flew in and struck out with her elbow, smashing the sweaty, thick-armed man in the face with one of the strongest parts of her smaller body. He reeled, now only on one knee.

"Or maybe the Stranger will fuck your eye sockets in each of the seven hells instead," she hissed to him, driving her sword up into his gut as she swiped right with her knife across his neck and sprayed the deck with his blood.

She turned to see Young Griff watching her while his father held the remaining pirate and Duck plunged his knife in and out of the man's heart deeply once with one swift, deliberate movement. Tyrion had been watching her from where he lay close by as well.

Griff and Duck began hauling corpses over the side while Yandry and Ysilla reappeared from the stern and began making way for them to move again. Alyce rather wanted to see what sorts of things were being carried in the pirates' boat, but obviously Griff had no interest in delaying. They left the boat where it was. Ysilla and Lemore, who had ventured back out of the hold, began to scrub the blood from the wood.

Young Griff was grinning, red in the face from exertion and victory, but Alyce ignored the rest of the crew while she knelt beside Tyrion. He was sitting awkwardly against the overturned chair, holding his hands in front of him gingerly. Alyce took them gently in hers to look at them and grimaced when she saw splinters of wood in his bloody scrapes.

"Stay here," she instructed him. "I'll be back to help you clean this." She slipped past Haldon hovering in the doorway of the hold and got her medicine pouch from her pack. She set to boiling lake water to clear his scrapes with and pulling splinters from Tyrion's hands with a small tin pincer tool as the Shy Maid began to leave Dagger Lake behind them. Young Griff excitedly recounted moments of the pirate fight to anyone with ears and sucked down clean water from a skin. Not another ripple from passing canals and caves molested their way.

Tyrion grimaced in an ugly manner as she worked but did not twitch his hands away or give her any mouthy griping. His eyes as he glanced at her as she knelt close were pained but also softer than she had ever seen them but once. He had looked foggily up at her with tender eyes in Illyrio's garden. When likely he had imagined she was someone else.

She held his hands and wrists with gentleness, and though she could not be so soft with words or else invite his derision, she hoped he might feel tenderness and concern in her touch, and that it would warm his trust to her.

She was angry at herself for his wounds. She cleaned his hands with the water once she had retrieved all of the splinters and it had cooled somewhat. She then wrapped his palms gently in clean and boiled cloths dabbed with healing ointment.

As she did so, Young Griff sat down with a blustery exhale beside them and began, "Alyce, you're sofast! You don't fight like Duck does. You didn't even seem to get winded! But I think you did because he pushed you back a few times. And he hurt Hugor. But the moves you did—that twist, the feints, and that parry-slash with the knife, and your footwork—you have to show me. I had no idea you could fight like that—I mean, I believed you when you said you could, but I didn't really understand what you meant when you said you had to fight differently. I—"

"Let her alone," Griff interrupted. He glanced at them from where he stood tall beside the low rail with his arms crossed. His eyes turned back to searching the dark undergrowth for more trouble.

Young Griff frowned at him. He asked her pointedly, "Am I bothering you?"

She smiled a little. "No, but perhaps we could talk about it in the morning. We're usually in our beds by now and I am a bit tired." She was not tired, but she knew a dismissal from her to the boy was what Griff wanted. His face fell a little but he nodded.

"Tomorrow then. Footwork tomorrow." He looked at Tyrion. "Are you alright, Hugor?"

"No damage that will not heal," said Tyrion. "I think I shall sleep away the pain presently."

"Alright. Goodnight, then." He shot an irritated look at his father and then ducked into the hold. Haldon followed while Duck remained for a few minutes to help Yandry and Ysilla take in the sail and secure the pole boat for the night. Griff looked out into the dark of the river beyond as if he would have liked to continue. He was hungry for Volantis.

Alyce followed them all in and Tyrion followed her. She lit a shallow tallow candle so they had a touch of light in the store room. It was hot in the room, and Alyce knew she would have no need of any furs. Tyrion pulled off his boots with growls of pain. He wiped some sweat of his brow with a shaking arm and growled, "I would kill for a skin of wine."

Alyce said nothing. He pulled his shirt off and she followed suit, stripping into her underclothes and donning a loose-fitting cream-colored tunic. Taking her hair down, she felt Tyrion's eyes and met them.

"Thank you for your gracious chivalry," he said. He sounded half sincere, half in jest. His pants he had left on though he had pulled off his shirt, boots, and socks and was bare-chested. "I think I might have a muddy boot where my brains are if not for that raved-about footwork of yours."

"Thank you for that well-aimed knife. It slowed him down."

"Not enough," he grumbled. "But wounding and running is about all the help a dwarf can give in such a situation. You wouldn't know it from today, but somehow I led a sortie on the shores of the Blackwater."

"You were horsed that night."

"For most of it." He grunted softly as he laid himself flat on his sleeping mat.

Alyce had heard he was there at the Battle of the Blackwater, but had heard nothing about him leading any attacks. She changed the subject. "Well, you are not Duck or Griff's priority, and the boy should focus on protecting himself," she said nonchalantly. "That leaves you to me." She lay down on her mat and furs, aching where the pirate had managed to land blows.

"Why do you care if I live or die more than they, sweetling?" he asked. There was a tired bite to his words. A lonely, bitter bite. With a touch of suspicion.

"I honor the vows I make, and it happens I vowed to protect those on this boat," she answered stoutly. "You fit under that category." She paused a moment and then added, "And because despite the fact that you seem about as tender, sincere, or honorable a person as one of our morning snappers, I think you are a good man."

Tyrion snorted. "Good to know my protector has such a firm hold on reality. Let me remind you I am a kin—"

"Kinslayer, kingslayer, betrayer, monkey demon—I have heard it. Your new titles are your shield. You have given up on trying to prove to the world that you are not what they have always ascribed to you because it has gotten you nowhere. So you parrot their titles back at them."

If not for Varys' hints, she would not have been able to open her eyes enough to see any of it. She would only have seen an angry, cruel little man with a biting wit and no soul behind his japes. But she wanted to believe he was the person the man she trusted had described. She continued, "You have sunk under those descriptions. But I do not think you have completely become them. Even though it would be easier for you. You don't want to. And you are a defiant fuck. So maybe that will help you." She rolled over.

"You have known me a month and can therefore be nothing more than woefully ignorant as to the kind of man I am."

"You saw Baratheon in me in so short a time," she countered. "I see what I see in you."

"Ask the last woman I fucked how good a man I am."

"Good people can kill without becoming cruel."

"And people best left alone can kill without it becoming warning enough to others, apparently."

"Spare me your snapping, my Lord Turtle," she sighed and rolled to her other side.

Tyrion took up a mat and went to sleep on the hold roof. Alyce did not miss him.