Ser Jon was relieved when Ghost rejoined them. Somewhere inside, he knew that the direwolf would meet him. They found him near Lord Harroway's Town, and the wolf looked as if he might've swum the last half of the journey from Riverrun.
Once Jon, Brynden, Jeyne, and Ghost reached the mouth of the Trident, a brown-robed man ferried them to the Quiet Isle. He wouldn't say anything when Jon asked about the island, but Ser Brynden explained that novices and most of the proctors do not speak.
A small man also wearing a home-spun, brown robe greeted them with a bow. He led across mud flats and up a sloping field. Most everyone on the island was dressed like the ferryman and the guide. When they passed the white, wooden stables covered by a shoddy roof, the guide waved to a bow-legged brother of the southron faith.
Jon looked him straight in the eye before handing over Drifts' reins. "I know little of the Seven, but I swear by them that should any harm come to this horse, I will visit the same upon you."
Ser Brynden looked shocked. I'm not the same passive boy you once knew, am I?
The brother looked confused that Ghost wasn't on a lead or turned over to his care. Jon ignored his glances, and the hooded man remained silent.
The rest of the buildings were guarded by a wall of piled stone, gated by a broken down horse-cart. The guide led them to a humble hall. The structure was long, but narrow across. Inside, everyone in attendance fit in only half the hall. A withered, old man nattered on about chastity, fasting to cleanse one's soul, and the Sword and Stars.
Jon regarded him closely. Preaching about chastity in a septry of only men? About fasting while waiting for a meal to be brought out? How anyone might think the prattle of this man more sacred than an ancient godswood, I shall never fathom.
When finally the brothers served the meal, Jon offered several silvers for the Blackfish, Jeyne, and himself, but was rebuffed.
Afterward, the guide showed them from the eating hall to a hillside, where they found a door protruding from the steep ground. The glass transom was leaded and foggy, but Jon could tell a fire was burning inside.
A tall, broad man with a square jaw opened the door. It seemed he didn't share the same vow of silence as most of the isle. "Lannister men, is it?" he said with a sly grin. "Thank you, brother. You were right to bring them to me." He let them into his house within the hill, even Ghost, and shut the door. All of the furnishings were made of the same type of worn wood. The fire made the room uncomfortably warm for Jon, but Jeyne seemed glad and moved to stand by it.
"I've been wearing crimson for longer than I care to," said Brynden, throwing off his surcoat.
Jon introduced himself as he had since donning his disguise, "Squire Jon Hill, umm. . . septon."
Brynden and the holy man looked at each other. The Blackfish said, "Excuse him, my friend. Though he may be a knight, he's still a boy."
"Does not the word 'boy,' seem to fit more and more of them as the years get on? He's making an effort to be respectful, and you shouldn't chide him for that."
Ser Brynden introduced Jon and Jeyne by their real names and said to call the old soldier, "Elder Brother." The Blackfish described their plans, and the brown brother's face grew grim.
"Your niece is dead, I'm afraid," he announced, not unkindly.
"Poor Lysa. She was unwell. Do you know the cause?"
"A singer she'd been. . . one she'd known. He objected to the wedding and murdered her in a jealous rage. May the Father judge him justly. Petyr Baelish is Lord Protector of the Vale now, though other Houses have joined to make common cause against him."
"He was frighteningly clever as boy. Lithe and sickly until he was about a squire's age. Little Petyr was daring and mischievous even after being caught. But, I cannot believe he'd do anything that'd deserve a unanimous uprising."
"Oh, it's far from unanimous, Bryn. Dissension and backstabbing accompany this struggle for power, as they have for time beyond count."
More betrayal and danger. Jon couldn't claim to be fond of Jeyne, but his inability to get her to safety ached. His mind went to Robb and Arya. . . and Lydrea.
His face must have revealed his thoughts. "Young ser, do not despair," urged Elder Brother. "I think the Vale remains the safest place for our lady."
Jon Whitewolf recalled his mission, why he first came south. "Have you heard anything about my sister, about. . ." Ser Brynden trusts this man. ". . . my sister, Sansa Stark. Does anyone know where she is? I . . . fear the Lannisters still hold her in the Red Keep."
And Arya. Would he know anything about her? The thought of mentioning to this stranger that Arya was lost troubled him in a way he couldn't stomach.
Elder Brother looked at Jon as if seeing him anew. He quietly answered, "I have heard nothing regarding where she's been since Joffrey Baratheon's wedding. The Lannisters offer a pompous sum for her capture, but it may yet prove to be a ruse. Riders, both saviors and hunters, search for her. Some even from King's Landing. I think it unlikely she is still in the Red Keep, given who has come looking for her. But, I do not know of anywhere else she might be. 'Unlikely' may be your best place to start looking." He turned back to Brynden. "That is also why Jeyne should not remain here. With men looking for a girl of three-and-ten on the Quiet Isle, hosting a girl only slightly older will draw their attention."
Unlikely, Jon repeated in his head. If this is a doomed pursuit, what kind of brother does that make me? Would Robb know what to do? Jon pushed his doubts deep below. I'll find her, and Arya too. Once they're safe, then I'll kill all who had a hand in murdering my family. I'll kill every last one of them.
Jon caught himself clenching his fists. He released his fingers and focused on the discussion.
"The capitol is the last place we can be certain that she's been to. Even if she has fled or been taken elsewhere, I can think of no better place to begin your search, Ser Jon."
Brynden discussed bringing Jeyne with him to the Vale. He insisted he had friends he could trust in Baelish, Yohn and Nestor Royce, and the Waynwoods.
"Jon, I have someone you must meet." Elder Brother paused to size him up. "Whether you know his face or not, please hear him. Much of his reputation is undeserved, and furthermore, he is no longer the man he once was." He left to retrieve whoever he meant.
Jon turned around to see Jeyne sitting by the hearth. He'd forgotten she was present. Robb's widow slid her hands through Ghost's fur, and Jon thought it a good sign.
In walked a hulking man wearing the robe of a brown brother. The sagging hood obscured his face entirely, but he pushed it back revealing a gruesome appearance, half scarred by fire or by the worst frostbite Jon had ever seen. Ser Jon didn't know the man, but Jeyne and Brynden were shocked to find him here.
"You!" she accused, before drawing back into herself.
"Yes, girl. Me."
"Brother," argued Brynden. "Why would you bring this monster here?"
"As I said, he is not the monster you take him for, nor the man he once was."
Apparently, Sandor Clegane had been accused of all manner of perversions: rape, murder, and burning smallfolk alive. Elder Brother insisted that the crimes of late were committed by someone who'd taken Clegane's helm. "And he has a remarkable history with your family, Jon."
Clegane growled a laugh.
Elder Brother spoke for him. He told Jon this burned man had protected his sister, Sansa, from Prince Joffrey's cruelty as best he could. He spoke of redemption and penance. "And, Sandor will help you on your journey," Elder Brother finished.
"To the Eyrie?"
"No, boy. To the Red Keep."
Jon didn't want to bring this hideous giant anywhere. The Blackfish's reaction cemented his feelings on the matter. When finally they deadlocked, Jon and Brynden arguing against Elder Brother and Clegane, their host motioned for quiet. He gave Clegane a nod.
Sandor Clegane conveyed little in the way of respect with his demeanor. "Boy, I have a new offer for you."
Jon glared back, but didn't try to silence him.
"For joining your journey to King's Landing," he said, "I'll tell you about your other sister."
Jon almost lost his balance and kept from falling backward by only a hair.
Clegane twitched his mouth into a smile. "Yes. The younger one, the wolf-girl. Wild little hellion she was, and I was the last to see her. At least of those who knew her."
Jon was at a loss. Arya?
The man didn't soften his tone. "I take that as a 'yes'."
Ser Jon confirmed it with a nod.
"I was travelling with her for a time, kept her out of harm. She even saved my skin once. But I took a wound, and she left me to die. For a past crime. . . might've deserved it, might not. We were making for the Saltpans when she left me. We were looking for a ship, mayhaps to her aunt in the Vale, but for certain out of the cursed, fucking Riverlands. She had a horse and a pocket of silver. Might be she had enough to get away. Wouldn't be surprised if she killed a grown sailor with that skinny blade of hers and stowed aboard."
Needle. She still has it. Jon couldn't doubt that this monstrous-looking brute knew Arya.
"I have to find her," Jon whispered.
"From what Sandor tells me," said Elder Brother. "She can take care of herself and is likely well rid of the Saltpans. If you have to choose between which of your sisters faces the more dire fate, the elder one is in the most peril."
"I can look for little Arya," offered Brynden. "I'll ask after her in the Saltpans. If I get word of her, I swear to chase after her. If there isn't sign of her there, I'll continue to the Eyrie. Mayhaps, she indeed went to find her aunt."
Jon pondered what they were suggesting to him. He said to the Blackfish, "So . . . Clegane and I will go looking for Sansa, starting in King's Landing. When we find her, we'll make our way to meet you in the Eyrie." He turned to the brutish man. "If I go along with this, how do you expect to sneak into King's Landing?"
Clegane barked a laugh. "How does anyone undertake a pilgrimage?" He answered his own question, "As a holy man."