CHAPTER 26
Sandor
When we leave the inn on the next morning, the weather gives me a feeling of foreboding. It's grey, misty and quite cooler. We have put on our cloaks with the hoods on our heads to protect us against the fine cold drizzling. I carry on my shoulder the bulging and heavy leather bag and hold her hand with my free one. We don't have far to walk as I had chosen an inn close to the harbor.
When we are close to the ship, I take down my hood so Thoren will recognize me and help her ascend the ladder and get on the deck. Thoren is waiting for us as the crew is busy with their preparations for departure. When he spies us, his face is split in a big smile, and he shows us the way to his cabin. I dump the bag gratefully on the floor and we sit down around a small table, warming our hands around cups of hot spiced wine. Sansa looks pale and subdued, and as soon as we have spoken a bit with the captain and told the tale, I get up to show her our cabin on the upper level from the captain's own. When I move to lift up the bag, Thoren signals me.
"Don't bother, dog. I'll have the cabin boy bring it to your cabin."
I grin. "I don't think he'll be able to."
He frowns skeptically and tries to lift it, groaning with effort. He drops it back down.
"By the seven, what do you have in that? A body?"
I chuckle and heave it on my shoulder. I signal to Sansa to stay at the bottom of the stairs while I ascend them, open the door and throw the pouch in. Then I go down the stairs and bring her near the railing so we can watch the shore line receding from our view. I can feel her trembling, and when I lift her face by the chin to gaze in it, I see that she's crying. I lower my head down and touch the tears with the tips of my fingers.
"Don't be afraid. I know that this is one bleak morning to leave, but things will settle."
I kiss the crown of her head and she tried to be brave, smiling through her tears. My words of reassurance have sounded hollow to me, though. Because of love, I have fallen into the trap of empty promises to keep fear at bay. While there are no gusts of wind yet, the rain is starting to fall harder and the sea is getting rougher. Her face has gotten paler yet.
"Sandor," she says in a tremulous tone, "does it bother you if I go lie down for a while? I feel strange."
I escort her to the cabin, staying behind her in case she slips on the wet stairs. There are two doors at the landing, one for each cabin. The cabin is bigger than in my dreams, with no walls separating the chamber from the sitting room part. I show her the side door which leads to our privy. She sits on the bed.
"I have to go talk to the captain, or do you want me to stay with you a bit?"
"No, thank you Sandor; I'll just rest."
I leave with a heavy heart, anticipating what will come. The rough sea is increasing the roll of the ship, making it heave up and down. While I feel like usual, I know that it has already started to affect her by the lack of colour on her face and her pinched mouth.
When I arrive in Thoren's cabin, he greets me with a with s cheerful expression.
"Then?"
I sit down heavily on the bench.
"Not so well I'm afraid. She's shook from leaving, and now with the higher waves, she's already starting to be unwell. This something that I cannot protect her from! Seven fucking hells! I need something to fortify me."
I gulp down half of the wine, sighing through my teeth. Thoren's face has turned sober and he drinks too.
"Not going as well as I would have wanted too. There's a storm coming, as you guessed. That'll make it hard going for a couple of days. Still willing to be my acting first officer? I'll need your help badly, if you don't get sick yourself. Even some sailors can get affected by a bad one."
"I'll do it. I have some experience now on a ship, so you don't need to teach me anything. I'll get on it."
He gives me a puzzled glance. "You never told me this; that you worked on a ship. How could you have been able to, when you have been sworn shield to the Prince for so long?"
"Never mind, it's too long a story for now. Just trust me."
"Another thing. Both of you are not the only passengers on the ship. There are already two of them in the cabin next to yours. They came in last night, and I think that they too want to travel ... discretely. He paid well."
The wind starts to pick up in the afternoon, the rain falling into great sheets of water. Moving around on the slippery deck gets hazardous, as the sea is really churning now. The ship groans mightily, and I try to be everywhere as things are turning chaotic, the men shouting and equipment breaking. I see a wave that is so high that it's dwarfing the ship, and I think that we're done for, but it just gets under the cock and brings us high up in a mighty heave, then we drop down again. And I had thought that fire burning everywhere was hell!
I make my way to our cabin, miserable and wet as a dog. When I don't spy her in it, I get frantic and open the door to the privy, finding her huddled on the floor with her head lowered in the hole. She's retching miserably. I take off my wet clothes and put on dry ones, and go sit on the floor behind her, putting my arms around her trembling body. I hold her hair away from her face as she retches up again, and when she cries piteously after being done, I feel my chest constrict with pain. I lift her up from the floor and carry her to the bed. Rummaging through the leather pouch, I find a night dress; then I bring the bucket with a wet cloth. I unlace her dress and turn my back while she undresses and puts on the nightgown. Laying her down on the bed, I rub the cool cloth over her face, neck and hands. I pull the coverlet over her.
"Sandor... do you think that we'll die?"
I have to ponder for a moment to give her a fair answer. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so. The captain wouldn't have left if he had seen the signs of a bad storm; or else we would have already gone under. Just try to rest."
"I'm not sure if I should stay in the bed. What if I get sick again?"
I show her the bucket and put it on the floor next to her side of the bed and get under the covers myself. I gaze at her. While her chin is trembling, I can see that she's trying hard to be strong, and I put my hand on her forehead and stroke her hair.
"Little bird, I would wish to spare you this and be sick in your place; but could you replace me as the first officer?"
It makes her giggle for a bit, and she turns her head to look at me.
"Thank you for being so kind to me."
I snort dismissively and watch her until I see her slip into slumber, then I fall asleep immediately after, exhausted and aching all over.
On the morning, the storm has calmed down, but the sky is still gray and a light rain is falling. As if there weren't enough water around us, in the ship and soon on me. Before leaving the cabin, I open the window and put a blanket on the floor underneath the window to absorb water if rain comes in. Some fresh air will do her good.
I get as soaking wet as yesterday, and we work hard together on bailing and repairs, and the worst appears to be over.
Except for Sansa... While she had slept soundly – as I woke up the bucket on her side was empty – unfortunately, she resumed being sick as she woke up, and refused throughout the day taking any kind of nourishment. On the next day, as the sky is starting to clear up and show up pieces of blue and the sea becomes calm again, she is still seasick, and I'm feeling at my wits ends. She's getting thinner already and her eyes look huge and haunted in her white face. While she doesn't complain, I can see how miserable and despairing she feels. She won't let me hold her to comfort her, as the evening before when I held her after making her drink some water the nausea had came on soon after and she had been sick on me. While I had said that I didn't fucking care about that, she had felt too ashamed and mortified to let me come near her again.
She often huddles on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin and rocking. The cabin boy, restored now to good health, has changed the bed linens and has picked up along with it the growing pile of wet and soiled garments to wash it all.
On my midday break in Thoren's cabin, I voice my concerns.
"I don't fucking understand it. On the other ship's crossing, she never got sick."
Thoren is giving me one of his uneasy glances which he's started to give me since my first mention of having been on a ship. While he's seen that I know my way around a ship, he cannot understand how I have acquired it, knowing that this is my first time sailing. And I cannot explain it to him without sounding mad.
He takes a drink from his ale cup. "Seasickness is a mysterious thing, dog. You, who are not a sailor and never felt the call of the sea, have natural sea legs. Some don't suffer from it for years, and suddenly they get it. Some recover from in it on a ship and get their sea legs."
"Seven hells, I'd like that to happen to her." I'm growling.
He chuckles knowingly. "Got it bad, don't you, dog? Never seen you like this before, all in knots over a pretty maid."
I bristle. "So? What is wrong with that?"
He sighs. "Nothing, lad. I'm happy for you that the Gods decided to give you this gift. And a special one who's able to see beyond these scars. Don't worry, nobody dies of seasickness. But do go see Booka. He has some healer's abilities and may be able to help."
I go down the stairs to the hold, and before I'm even near the entrance, I already smell the terrible stench that is floating there like a noxious cloud. In normal times, it's still bad but I can smell that some of the crew got the sickness too. Even I could lose my meal over this. I grimace and try to breathe through my mouth.
Booka is sitting at his table, looking serene and unaffected by this. When he spies me bending to go through the entrance, he gets up and smiles at me knowingly.
"Master Hound, you look like somebody who is badly in need of something strong."
He opens a door to the cupboard behind, taking out a dragon glass vessel with strange marking on it, As soon as I spy it; I put up my hand and growl my refusal.
"No! None of that!"
He burst out laughing in great guffaws and I laugh too. When we sober off, I spy an unusual glint in his eyes, intensity to his gaze, and a pricking on my skin raises goose bumps.
"You remember it too... "I say in a low tone. "This same ship, but on another crossing in the east. The night I got drunk with the rum."
"Yes," he answers simply.
"Did it come to you in a dream?"
"Yes. You killed a crewman when he attacked the lady, liked the music that I played. You disembarked in Yin and I joined you there with the eunuch."
I've become very still while my heart is pounding. "What is it then? How can we dream of lives that we've not truly lived?"
"Some of my people believe that there are opening to other worlds which are the same as this one, with the same people in them; but in each of these worlds, people make different decisions than the ones you would make here. Some changes are small while others big, affecting the length of your life and the nature of your fate. Since it is impossible to go into these worlds, the only way to them comes in dreams."
And then I know finally that I've not been descending into madness. A great sense of relief fills me. With Booka's explanation, these bewildering dreams now make sense, with my memories of the fortune teller's predictions and those of the first dream, where I had seemed to die young.
"And the dreams can serve as warnings, maybe?"
"Or to learn something new; not to repeat the same mistakes."
I reflect on this for a moment. This is strong magic, but not the kind that men can control. My mind has been settled on this, but not on the more urgent matter.
"I didn't come for drink. The little bird is suffering from seasickness. Can it be helped?"
He points to a teapot on the table that I hadn't noticed before.
"This. It's ginger tea. The cook in the galley has scores of containers infused with the root. It may work. Take this one, and have her take very small sips of it. Wait a few minutes; then give her another one. If she keeps it down, it will work."
I nod my head in thanks and bring the teapot to our cabin. She's sitting up in bed, dozing, and when she hears my footsteps, she opens her eyes and looks at me wanly. I pour the hot liquid in a cup and bring it with me, sitting on the side of the bed besides her. As I bring it near, she averts her face, shaking her head and I persist in keeping it close. As she finally inhales the fragrant steam, her eyes widen.
"What is this? It smells wonderful."
"Cure for what ails you. Try it. Small mouthful though. Slowly."
She takes it gingerly between her hands and does as she's bid. After minutes of careful drinking, the cup is empty and she lets out a big sigh of contentment, putting her hand on her stomach.
"That feels good Sandor. My stomach is all warm inside and is settling. Thank you."
A big burp comes out invontarily and she puts her hand on her mouth, blushing. I chuckle and my insides too are calming nicely. I get up to fetch the teapot and as I bend to deposit it on the surface of the nightstand, a white hand lands on my cheek and strokes it. I capture it and kiss it, squeezing it before I let go.
"You'll go on, don't fret. I'll have the cabin boy bring you more tea later. Rest. I have to go."
As I close the door, the sky has cleared completely and the sun is shining. It feels like a good omen. Joy, such an unfamiliar feeling for me, wants to burst out. I smile at the sky. To think that I, who didn't believe in Gods and good fortune, feel hope now, in powers stronger than I who can be merciful sometimes.
When I go back later to the cabin to retire for the night, I find her in a much better state. While she has still not eaten yet, she's managed to wash and change by herself, and some colour has returned to her cheeks. She smiles sweetly at me as I pull the covers and slide between the sheets. I take her head between my hands and kiss it; her hair, her face, her mouth and settle down with her body tucked in mine.
On the next morning, I'm sitting on a barrel on the deck and drinking a cup of wine, looking up at the door to our cabin, wishing that she'll be strong enough to come out for fresh air and sunshine. My gaze slides to the door further left, and while I had wondered at first why I hadn't seen anybody coming out of it once, the storm had made it slip from my mind.
Now I'm wondering again. There's been such an air of mystery about it. Will they come out, or are they seasick too? As if my intent gaze on the door had been calling to it, it opens, and as soon as the man closes it behind him and start his descent on the stairs, I have recognized him already. Jaqen H'gard! It the same man, tall and moving with a lithe grace, his long hair a mix of white and dark red, with large grey eyes, which are paler than mine, sheer as ice. These eyes have found me, and as he walks in my direction, I can see that while being as handsome as before, he looks a bit thinner and pale. I get up and lean on the railing to await his arrival.
While in the dreams of the other life I had felt a certain affinity with him - with both of us being killers - but this time I feel myself bristling instinctively with an unknown hostility toward him. The smile that he gives as he stands in front of me makes me clench my fists.
"Ah, the Hound finally," he says in his suave, soft voice.
"Yes, finally. And you're Jaqen H'gard, formely of the Free City of Lorath, on a quest with Lady Arya Stark to find her long lost sister."
That throws him off. He had certainly not expected that. I experience a malevolent joy at seeing him loose his usual cool, unflappable manner. He retreats abruptly as if I had hit him, a frown marring his smooth forehead. I grin, showing a lot of teeth.
"The man has heard many things about the Hound, but not that he was a seer."
I can feel a surly expression growing on my face.
"Where were you? I've not seen you until now."
He sighs and inclines his head gracefully, almost humbly. "A man was incapacitated in his cabin until of this morning. A man doesn't understand, as he's travelled many times and has not had this sickness before. But the ginger tea cured him, and here he is."
He smiles again, having regained his composure back. Mine is deteriorating still.
"Where is Arya Stark? Was she sick too?"
"No. The girl tended to the man, and is resting now."
"Oh yes, Arya, your soulmate."
An expression of bewildered disdain pinches his features. "What is the Hound speaking of? This is a child, of no interest to a man in this manner."
"Why did you help her then?"
"A man admires this child, feeling affinities with her. A man had given her a coin, in case she needed him again. She travelled to Braavos, and he decided to help her in her search."
"And how did you find me this time?"
He frowns again, and I'm enjoying the power that I have now to fluster him. He doesn't enjoy it, obviously, as this is a man not used to bewilderment; his mouth thins and his eyes become icier.
"A man finds a Hound unhinged. Maybe because of a lady? He must feel out of his depth with her. How can he think that a lady would feel anything but gratitude for a brute of a man who reeks of sweat and wine? This won't last."
Seven hells, he's hit well this time. He's exactly the kind of man that I don't want Sansa to meet: handsome, cultured, and refined – the opposite of me; and more than capable of protecting her. Also, he smells good, like I remember - even his hair gives out wafts of sweet scent. And while I, having been preoccupied on more urgent matters, I had let thoughts of washing be chased from my mind. My teeth are clenching and gnashing.
"These things are no fucking business of yours, faceless man. Then?"
He laughs mockingly at my roughness. "The man and the girl travelled back to Westeros; heard of the disappearance of a valuable hostage at the Red Keep and of a certain sworn shield. A man thought with the Hound having survived so long in this nest of vipers, that he would be clever enough not to use the expected route. The man and the girl followed the southern trail. The Hound, being taller and bigger than most men and with his distinctive scars is easy to remember. There were sightings of him in Highgarden and when there were others in Oldtown, the man knew that he was very near. A man saw him in Oldtown's harbor, speaking with the captain of this ship, and the rest was easy."
By the seven hells, they were following not far from behind us, and I had never known it! And he had been close in Oldtown, and I had never felt him. To think that this man was shadowing me makes my skin crawl. He is the most dangerous man that I've ever met, being more than a match for me, and I don't doubt that he's my adversary now, even though I can't fathom why.
'If your mission was completed, why did you come on the ship? You could have left Arya there and left. Why didn't you? Am I your next target?"
He chuckles. "'No."
Some instinct makes me turn my gaze to the door to our cabin. It opens and then out comes Sansa Stark. She has put on an embroidered green silk dress, with a matching scarf that she has wound on her head in the manner of the desert people, with her copper hair flowing down on her back. She's wearing sandals, and she's descending carefully, her eyes searching below. She looks so beautiful in this garb, reminding me once again of the pretty birds of the Southern Isles. My chest expands and constrict at this sight. I swallow down the lump in my throat, and feel something intense coming off from the man beside me, something that raises my hackles. He has gasped, and I turn my head to look at him.
He's become very still. His gaze is riveted on Sansa, who has paused in the stairs and is still looking for me. His gray eyes have widened and the hunger that has filled them is spreading on his face, making his features appear harder and his mouth fuller, the lips parted. Now I understand why he has stayed on the ship. He hadn't spied only me in Oldwtown.
My eyes narrow and I growl at him, advancing on him. He laughs in an insouciant and careless way. Then her voice calling my name breaks the spell and I turn to look in its direction. She has started to run towards me, and I feel the urge to tell her to slow down, as I'm afraid that she'll trip and fall in these whimsy sandals and in her weakened state. But this is how I love to see her; her sweet, spontaneous and childlike nature manifesting itself freely. I forget everything else except her luminous smile as she reaches us and flings herself on my chest. I lift her up in my arms and laugh, while she hangs on to my shoulders with her hands. My smell doesn't seem to bother her.
"Sandor, it worked! I was hungry and managed to eat bread and fruit, and I feel good now!"
While I lower her down on her feet, I watch the expression on Jaqen's face change; he looks like he's eaten something bitter and his jaw has tensed. She hasn't even noticed him... Then I look at her upturned face and lean my head down until these sweet moist lips touch mine, making my pulse race, and I open my mouth and taste hers while keeping my glowering eyes opened to glare at Jaqen, warning him of my claim, of her belonging to me. His eyes glower back at me, and then I hear another voice, this one belonging to the little she wolf, Arya Stark.
"Sansa! What are you doing, kissing the Hound!"