The Cat was wrapped in her master's arms, her own arms bent at the elbow with hands laid flat against Jaqen's chest. Her false cheek—the uninjured one—was pressed against the boiled leather of the familiar household guard's garb. The girl did not understand the meaning behind his words. She was not privy to his thoughts and did not know what he meant by asking her repeatedly what she had done.

What have I done? she wondered.

There was something in his voice as he spoke... She could not name it and she could not interpret it in her mind, but she felt it deep inside of herself and it gripped her heart and attempted to steal her breath. She fought against the unsettling feeling and inhaled deeply, a futile attempt to slow the runaway pace that her heart had suddenly adopted. Rather than calming her when she did this, however, her heart squeezed even harder and more painfully beneath her breast, for her deep inhalation had brought to her nose the scent of cloves and ginger and leather. Why the redolent medley should affect her so, she did not know, but her head swam, just for an instant, as she commanded her heart to slow and her mind to be reasonable and quit spinning. She nearly laughed as a giddy realization fluttered through her thoughts. He smells like himself even when wearing someone else's face. She believed then that no matter who he was pretending to be or where he might find himself in the world, if she was but close enough to catch his scent, she would know him anywhere.

The Lorathi assassin held his lovely girl in his arms for a few moments more, no longer murmuring into her false curls but still with his lips and nose buried there. His eyes, however, rested upon the door to her chamber and he studied it even as he pulled her tighter to him. There was no slat or bolt with which to secure it. There was no way to prevent unwanted visitors from entering the cell. Had he not walked in only moments before, completely unimpeded, and found the girl attempting to undress herself? He wondered if she had managed to secret a dagger into the manse with her and if so, did she sleep with it under her pillow?

Jaqen misliked the turn this assignment had taken. He misliked that she had left the relative safety of the inn for the wealthy man's manse. He misliked that so many swords surrounded his lovely girl and she had none of her own. He misliked that the man she was meant to kill had settled so much of his attentions upon her, and that those attentions were both lascivious and violent. He misliked that she was as far away from the temple, and himself, as she could possibly be while still remaining in Braavos.

Jaqen found it easier to impose his will upon his apprentice when she was being petulant or when she was flustered or angry. It was much more difficult for him when she was serious and calm and determined. She had used reason and soft words to entice him into consenting to her plan to enter the manse in the first place and now she was doing it again to convince him that she should stay. Her imploring, sincere look coupled with her gentle tone bewitched and beguiled him and he had felt lulled into accepting her argument but the longer he stood holding her, the more unsure he became about giving her up to suffer the whims and inclinations of Atius Biro. Could he abandon her here and trust in her abilities and skills to protect her? It would seem he did not have a choice in the matter. This was not Westeros and she was not his lady wife, obedient and meek. He could not sweep her up and carry her away against her will. He almost smiled at the thought—anyone foolish enough to try that would likely find themselves stabbed with a quickness. No, he would have to leave his ferocious Cat here to finish her work just as he would have to return to the temple to continue his.

Her master released her from his arms and placed his hands upon her shoulders, pushing her away from him slightly so that he might see her face better and study it more closely. His steady gaze awakened that twisting sensation in the girl's gut that she recalled feeling first when Umma had accused the Cat of flirting with her master. She did not understand it and she wasn't sure what she should do about it, but she held his gaze, waiting for him to speak. He peered intently into her false eyes as if searching for some answer to an unasked question. Finding none, he sighed and guided her to her bed, indicating that she should rest. The sunrise was not far off and she would be expected to function in her role as cupbearer despite the late hours she was keeping. She protested, saying she had to clean her gown, elsewise it would be ruined. He cocked an eyebrow at her and then looked disdainfully at the soiled garment heaped upon the floor, saying she should wear Mattine's own clothes instead. She shrugged, accepting his wisdom.

Let Lord Atius comment upon the change of uniform in front of the others, the Cat thought as one side of her mouth curled upwards. He will only indict himself.

Let this wealthy man try to make her wear that whore's uniform again, the Lorathi thought as the corners of his mouth drew down into a frown, and he won't live long enough for a lovely girl to complete her task.

"I don't know that I should bother with sleep," she remarked as she eased her head back against her pillow. "There's so little time until I must begin my duties, and you obviously have something of importance to discuss, or you wouldn't be here."

"A man will not be here long."

She expected him to sit down next to her on the mattress as he had done so many times before and discuss whatever it was that had brought him to the manse of the wealthy man. She thought he might even have some previously unused trick of Asshai to heal her lip or reduce the swelling and ache over her cheekbone. She believed he might lay his hands on her and whisper some words of comfort or perhaps tease and jape with her about something that would vex her but still result in his warm skin brushing hers somehow. Instead, he walked to the small desk opposite the bed and sat in the chair he found there after turning it to face her. The girl felt a sharp pang at that, almost a sense of rejection, for which she inwardly chastised herself.

Why should I even care where he sits? she huffed to herself.

You know why, her annoying little voice told her and she thought then that if her annoying little voice had a face, she would punch it.

The Bear has a face, though, she thought with a frown. Maybe I should punch him instead, for putting his silly notions in my head, just because he's all twisted up in knots over Olive.

"A man sees the sense in a girl's words," Jaqen admitted, pulling her attention away from her inner turmoil and back to the matter at hand. "Still, a man hopes a girl sees the sense in his words as well. You will finish your task here and you will return to a man unharmed. This means a girl should avoid needless risks."

"I do not like to think of you worrying for me. I am not afraid of Biro," the Cat assured her master, pronouncing Biro's name with the same look she might have had if she had tasted something rancid.

"There is a thing a man always says about a girl's courage and her sense. Do you recall it, child?" her master asked, looking at the Cat meaningfully.

She bristled at his calling her a child and did not respond to his rhetorical query, but instead thought, I am no little girl. I'm a demon masquerading as a little girl. He gazed at her for a long moment, trying to puzzle out the sudden change of her expression, which had been scowling but suddenly looked… malevolent. Then he let the subject drop.

"A man has come to speak with you about your plan for this dead lord."

"Oh?" the girl asked, squirming beneath the sheet and thick coverlet of her bed, thinking,Why is there such a thick coverlet? It's never cold enough to need it here. In a demonstration of how useless she felt such heavy bedding was in the warm Braavosi climate, she tossed the coverlet aside and then turned over to face her master, drawing her sheet up over her chest. Jaqen watched her movements with a slightly furrowed brow and his look seemed serious. She began wonder what he might say next. What if there was some further complication to this already convoluted assignment? Might her master have some new layer to add to the challenge?Perhaps the order had forgotten to mention some further inane detail required to fulfill the obligation they had accepted when they took Mattine's face in payment for Biro's death. Was the wealthy man now not only to be humiliated but also eaten by some of the many cats roaming the streets of Braavos? Perhaps Mattine had whispered to the Kindly Man that she desired the wealthy lord be shaved bald prior to his death. What further ridiculous requirements could the order place upon her shoulders for this one simple task?

In her nervousness at awaiting her master's words, she squirmed some more, fluffing her pillow and twisting her sheet through her legs. Mattine had not been wrong when she spoke with Atius Biro as his hand grazed her bare back; she really was quite warm. She was finding it hard to get comfortable. Had she been honest with herself, she would have seen that some of her restlessness crept directly from her belly and the twisting therein. It only seemed to intensify when she heard her master's voice.

"Please stop writhing in your bed, lovely girl," the Lorathi uttered, sounding a little hoarse. "You rob a man of his concentration."

She felt silly and childish, caught squirming and restless in her bed, corrected like a naughty stripling who had annoyed his maester by wiggling and twitching through his heraldry lessons. The girl was embarrassed that her master was distracted by her behavior and had called her out about her fidgeting, and so soon after he had referred to her as a child. She did not realize that the Lorathi's inability to concentrate was not remotely related to any childishness on her part. It was just the opposite, in fact. Twisted in her sheets, wearing his blouse with the laces pulled open and the neckline askew, she was far too grown and tempting for his comfort. Had she been wearing her own face just then... But no, he determined, it did not bear thinking about. There were important matters to discuss.

She quickly stilled her restive motions, biting her broken lip sheepishly and then hissing slightly at the pain she caused herself. A grimace appeared upon Mattine's face as she recalled the reason for her discomfort. Atius would suffer, the apprentice vowed. The wealthy lord had just earned himself two drops of the... Grunting of Lys?

Jaqen saw his lovely girl's pain and frowned even more deeply. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push away his blooming desire to make Atius suffer intensely. And his blooming desire to do other things as well; things much less sinister but every bit as intense.

"A man has spoken to his sister," he began, opening his eyes and dropping his gaze to the floor. "She tells me that your brother has brought you the means for making the Tears of Lys."

"Well... yes," the apprentice conceded. "But..."

"This will not do, lovely girl," the master assassin chided, interrupting her explanation. "You know how carefully we must tread here in Braavos. This manse is within sight of the Sealord's own palace."

"I know that, Jaqen, but I..."

"It is an effective poison, obviously, and no less than this wretch deserves, but still, you cannot use it."

"I know that," she told him flatly.

Her master looked up from the floor where he had apparently kept his eyes on his feet the entire time he spoke to the acolyte. He had his eyebrows raised slightly, giving her a questioning look, awaiting her elucidation.

"I didn't make Tears of Lys. I made a sort of version of it that I discovered accidentally," she told him. "It will have some mild... well, comparatively mild belly effects but it won't eat the bowel away. It won't kill him."

"Then why make it at all?" her master pondered out loud.

The girl sat up on her bed and grinned at him wickedly. He saw more than a trace of her true self in the gesture and he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes once again and scrubbing at the guard's hair as she answered his question. Or, rather, as she did not answer it.

"It's part of my plan," his apprentice assured him. "I'd rather not say more."

"Do you not trust a man with your secrets, lovely girl?" he purred, opening his eyes and turning his gaze upon her. The assassin's false eyes burned as his lips formed a small, teasing smile. Mattine had never noticed before how comely was this household guard. She would have to pay more mind to him the next time they crossed paths to see if it was truly him that looked so... so roguishly handsome or if the look was solely influenced by the man who wore his face. She resolved to study the guard the next time she walked past his post at the garden door... unless Jaqen had killed him for his face. Despite Jaqen's efforts, the girl fought to resist her master's charm and keep her secrets.

"You know more of my secrets than anyone else," the Cat replied, now feeling almost guilty for holding back. She was once again squirming, though this time under the intensity of the Lorathi's gaze. "But this... I just..."

Jaqen cocked his head and wondered at her hesitancy.

"What is it, lovely girl?" he murmured, leaning forward and watching her closely. He was intrigued by her struggle and the subtle play of emotions on her false face.

"It's just that I haven't had a chance to... be independent... on an assignment since you've returned. Everything I've done, I've done with prompting from you, or... oversight from you."

"That is not true," her mentor said, reminding her that she had dispatched Hellind with no interference on his part.

"But that was so simple, Loric could have done it," the girl nearly whined. Hearing herself, she stopped short and drew her shoulders up a little straighter. She did not wish to give her master cause to call her a child again. She ran her tongue lightly over Mattine's damaged lip and considered her words a moment before continuing. "I know it may seem stupid to you, but I just... I suppose I want to prove myself. I was able to deliver the gift to the ship's captain with his own knife and it seemed to... impress the Kindly Man." What she did not say was that she wished to see that sort of recognition of her skills in her master's eyes. She longed to make him proud of her and did not want to share her plan because she had been hoping that she would be able to complete her task and explain the how of it later, thus garnering her mentor's admiration. The apprentice craved Jaqen's approval.

You crave more than mere approval, the unwelcome voice snickered in her head.

Shut up, she growled internally, thinking she ought to clout the Bear until either he fell to the ground or she tired of hitting him. Whichever came last.

"A man knows your capabilities, sweet girl. You need not prove yourself," he assured her, his gaze softening as he thought of the fierce child on the King's Road, and then later in Harrenhal. When had she ever received praise and recognition? On the rare occasions she spoke of her past in the North, she only ever seemed to recall being chastised and corrected for her lack of gentility, never admired for her fearlessness or her skill with a bow. Even in the House of Black and White, praise was a rare thing and it had taken her performing what was essentially an impossible feat to draw an admiring word and look from the principal elder. "The only proof a girl should concern herself with is that which will be required of her during her final trial."

"It has certainly been much on my mind," the Cat admitted. "But still, I must do this first."

"Just so. But a man would prefer a girl be quick about it."

"Ten days," she told him, then thought on it briefly and corrected herself. "Well, nine now, I suppose."

Nine days. Could she be in a wealthy man's house for nine days without enduring unspeakable abuse? Jaqen worried. Again, he left his face less-guarded than he ought, for she seemed to pull the thoughts straight from his head and sought to reassure him.

"If I titrate this... potion correctly," she started, thinking that she really must settle on a name, "then Biro won't be comfortable enough to harass me anymore."

"This potion of your own devising?" her master questioned, not looking appeased.

"Yes," she said. "It should render Biro incapable of causing me much trouble."

"Hmm," he mused, allowing his eyes to drift to the floor again as he thought on her plan. Or, at least, what little he knew of it.

Suddenly, the Cat bolted upright in her bed, exclaiming, "Oh!"

The excited utterance caused the Lorathi master to jerk his head up and pin her with his gaze, his eyes widening.

"I just remembered something!" the girl continued breathlessly. "When I was at the market with the Bear, I learned that the rat-faced boy was one of four who threw me into the canal!"

Expecting him to gasp or look shocked at her unanticipated revelation, she instead found herself displaying shock when her master said, "A man knows."

"What? How could you know? I just found out myself!"

"The Westerosi told me."

"He did? Why in the Seven bloody Hells would he tell you…" she began, but then her voice trailed off as she recalled the Bear's words. Sometimes the simplest explanation really is the answer.

"A man imagines the boy told him because he wished to live. A man had the boy by his throat and threatened him."

"Oh." That explanation was even simpler. Having once had Jaqen's hands tightening around her own throat, she knew how... convincing her master could be. "Did you find out who the others were?"

"This matter is… delicate," the Lorathi told the Cat. "Let a man see to this."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"A girl has her secrets as well," he reminded her (and he sounded a little smug to her ear). Her master was shielding her but he knew that even if she understood that, the girl would not be satisfied. She deemed herself above the need for protection and trying to reason with her about this would only provoke further argument. He was not willing to allow her to talk him out of this one precaution.

"But my secrets don't directly concern you," she sniffed with discontent. She was just shy of a full pout, which amused her master greatly. It also made it easier for him to adhere to his resolve to say nothing on this matter until he had investigated further. He did not wish to needlessly alarm his apprentice.

"Lovely girl, everything about you directly concerns a man."

As he spoke, he rose from the chair and walked the short distance to her door as if to leave. The girl found herself a little sad to see him going. It seemed he had only just arrived. The assassin wrapped his fingers around the handle and as he began to pull the door open, he stopped suddenly and turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"This potion of yours... This weakened Tears of Lys," the Lorathi began, "has a clever girl named it yet?"

"Hmm," the Cat thought, then raised her eyebrows quizzically and threw out, "Discomfort of Lys?"

Jaqen shook his false head at her and then narrowed his eyes a bit, a smirk slowly curving his lips.

"Ah, but it's so obvious, lovely girl," her mentor said, and when she gave him a confused look, he offered, "Cat Gut."

And with that, he was gone.

It wasn't until well after her master had left that the apprentice realized she had forgotten to tell him about the presence of his brother in the household.

Ah, well, she thought, perhaps he already knew…

The subject of the breakfast conversation for Atius Biro's family seemed to be a continuation of the supper conversation as Lady Vorena and Lidia discussed the various details of the upcoming feast and the wealthy man ate heartily while occasionally nodding his approval to some suggested amendment to the plans. Gulls eggs in nests of wilted greens (the cupbearer frowned at the eggs and greens. Much more of these would interfere with her plan for Lord Atius. She would have to see what she could do about his diet) surrounded by a thick and spicy cream sauce; a jam of fish eggs spread upon flaky biscuits; stewed figs and small fish fried into crisps. No one commented upon the cupbearer's injured face and she showed no signs of discomfort as she filled their cups, paying special attention to the cup of her new master. Two drops, she had promised him when she bit her damaged lip in the predawn darkness. The Stark part of her was especially keen to keep her word, for what was a Stark without her honor?

As Mattine handed her lord his cup, he glanced at her sideways, frowning slightly. This was his expression of disapproval for her mode of dress, she knew, as she wore one of the plain and demure serving gowns she had brought with her from the inn.

Stupid man, the Cat thought.

If the wealthy lord were less blind, he might see how his wife was made more comfortable by the cupbearer's change of costume. If he would not insist on throwing his infidelities in the Lady Vorena's face in her own home, he might find she tolerated them better. That might have saved Hellind's life and saved the wealthy man the bit of his wealth that rested now in the coffers of the temple. Or, more likely, in the protected vaults of the Iron Bank of Braavos. Ah, well. His marital problems and financial affairs were not the Cat's concern. And shortly, neither would they be his.

The assassin's apprentice was doing her best to keep time in her head. By her estimation, nearly twenty minutes had passed since the wealthy man began consuming his refilled drink when the first signs of discomfort appeared upon his face. She noted his pained expression with practiced indifference but inside, there was a burgeoning feeling of delight dancing below the surface of her skin and she commanded herself to stillness so that it would not show itself outwardly. She recognized it as the joy of revenge, no matter how faint it was at this small jab at the odious lord.

The acolyte knew that as an instrument of Him of Many Faces, her practiced indifference should be actual indifference and the only delight she should feel should be at the thought that she was advancing the cause of the order and moving closer to accomplishing her goal. She should feel no personal gratification at the discomfort of this dead man, but even the ache of her cheek seemed to dull as the delicious sensation of successfully exacting a modicum of retribution spread throughout her body. How much greater would the feeling be when she finally delivered Cersei Lannister to the Stranger? There was an insistent pull toward such an enticement that was difficult to ignore, despite her desire to enter the order as a sister and avowed servant of the House of Black and White.

The wealthy man clutched at his belly and his face paled a bit. He called for his cupbearer and one of the household guards to help him to his solar, telling his wife he needed to rest as something had upset his digestion. Lady Vorena nodded at him, commenting that he should perhaps not eat so heavily in the mornings, and then returned to her discussion with Lidia, saying that the girl could not attend the mummers' show today as she had asked because the dressmaker would be shortly at the manse for the girl's final fitting of her feast gown. The mummers could wait until the morrow.

Tomorrow, then, the Cat thought as she and the guard walked with Biro hunched over between them.

Lord Atius seemed to have forgotten his earlier disapproval of his cupbearer's dress. She had such beautiful skin and he could not for the life of him understand why she would wish to cover it with that drab, brown smock, he had thought before his belly began to trouble him, frowning at the girl. Still so lovely, despite the ugly clothes, he sighed inwardly, but he felt affronted when he gazed at her, as if she was purposefully hiding something from him. But that was before the wealthy man began to feel unsettled deep in his gut. He had devoured a very rich meal though rarely did such foods upset his digestion. But he wasn't getting any younger, he supposed. Perhaps Vorena was right in insisting that he have greater care in what he consumed. Damn that woman. She did not wish him to enjoy pleasures of the flesh or pleasures of the palate. If his wife had her way, there would be nothing left for him.

Now, as the guard and the beautiful cupbearer dressed in her plain servant's clothes escorted him to his solar, he thought only of his discomfort and was glad that the girl was there to help him, her dress be damned. Pain has a way of bringing into focus what is most important at any given moment. When they arrived at their destination, Mattine threw open the door and the guard assisted the grimacing lord to his low couch, settling him there against silken cushions that appeared similar to the ones piled in his gondola. Biro waved the man away as Mattine wet a cloth and placed it on his forehead. The wealthy man called for wine to settle his stomach.

"My lord," the girl began timidly, looking at him from her thick eyelashes, "if I may, I could brew you some tea. It is a ginger tea from Myr and has great soothing properties for the belly. Wine will only intensify your discomfort, I believe." I'll make sure it does if you insist on it, my lord, she added mentally.

"Very well, just be quick, girl," Biro groaned and Mattine swept quickly toward the door. Just as she exited the room, she saw the wealthy man bolt up from his seat and then head toward the privy just off his solar in a trot and she allowed herself a small smile as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Once outside of the chamber, the cupbearer lifted her skirts and flew to her own cell, gathering her supplies. She then ran to the kitchen, barked something at the cook about making a tea for Lord Atius' ailment, and found that her actions were being watched over by the familiar Faceless guard—the handsome man. That was very, very good. Not that any of her ingredients were poisonous. They were all actually things that were good for brewing tea, making it flavorful and even somewhat effective for the trouble the wealthy man was experiencing. However, anyone very skilled in herb lore might also note that each ingredient had another property in common, and combining them all, while delicious, was like to lead to… other problems over time.

She had dried feverfew from the waif's stores and she crushed the leaves and petals, dropping it into the small, boiling pot of water the cook had indicated she might use. To that, she added some bits she scraped from the ginger and licorice roots she had purchased in the market and as they began to roll in the boiling water and give it color, she added dashes of the cinnamon and turmeric she had bought from the spicer.

"That has a pleasant smell," the cook commented in passing. "You must give me the recipe."

"Certainly," Mattine replied nonchalantly. Just don't cut yourself after you drink it. Then she added three whole cloves the cook had in a small jar and squeezed the juice of a few slices of lemon into the mixture. The scent was divine.

Jaqen, the Cat thought, and then shook her head slightly. Concentrate, idiot. To the entire boiling pot, she added a tiny drop of the dilute Sweetsleep she had taken from the hiding place under her mattress before she left her cell that morning. Her sleight of hand had improved so much over the years that she felt confident no one but another master of the skill would even guess at her action, but still, she felt relieved that her preparation of the tea was being overseen by the handsome man. Of course, even if she had been forced to drink the concoction herself by someone suspicious of her, the worst that would happen is that she would feel very relaxed, possibly even drowsy. Still, it would not do to be caught with the vial of Sweetsleep (or Cat Gut) on her person. She placed the small vial back in her pocket, next to the other.

That is another reason this dress is superior to the ruined one, the girl thought. Pockets.

Once her brew was done, she ladled it into a pouring pot made of a dried and glazed clay, a piece of plain pottery, using a loose linen cloth over the mouth of the thing to catch the bits of leaves and roots and prevent them from getting into the pot. She placed the filled crockery on a tray along with a cup and then fished a shallow dish out of the cupboard that she filled with almonds. Almonds were just the thing, she decided. No more greens. Or eggs.

Mattine carried the tray from the kitchen, earning a curious look from the handsome man's false face, but she ignored it and continued on to Lord Atius' solar. She found him once again sprawled on his couch, groaning slightly.

"My lord, your tea," she announced, setting the tray on the large, round table where he sometimes took meals when he was too busy to come to the small hall. She poured a cup and then brought it to him. He told her that he did not think he could stomach it but she assured him that if he did, he would feel much better, so he made to sit up. She set his cup on the table at the side of the couch and assisted him, getting him into an upright position. She then gave him his cup and gently bade him drink as she returned to the large table for the dish of almonds. The man eyed the nuts suspiciously and the girl laughed her tinkling laugh and said that they would help counteract whatever it was that he had ingested that did not sit well with him. She rattled off some convincing-sounding nonsense about almonds absorbing bad humors and then pushed the dish toward him.

The cupbearer stayed at her lord's side and fussed over him as he imbibed her brew. The girl casually remarked how her mother had once said that green foods were not so gentle on the sensitive belly and if he liked, she could inform the cook not to serve him anymore of greens or gulls' eggs until after he had been recovered for a few days. The man assented to her suggestion almost absentmindedly. After half an hour had passed, he admitted that he did feel much better (partly, the girl knew, due to the ginger and cinnamon, and partly due to the short duration of action of her Cat Gut). Biro then stifled a yawn and told her girl that he felt he might need a rest to recover from his small attack. She nodded to him and said she would leave him another cup of tea, just to be sure he was adequately recovered.

"Please drink it, my lord," the girl urged with heavy concern lacing her voice. "I do not like to think of you suffering again."

"Thank you, my dear," he said and he sounded almost gracious as he grabbed a handful of almonds from the dish and began chewing them. His color was back to normal and he did not seem to suffer at all now. By the Cat's calculations, the effects of her concoction had lasted just under an hour. When Mattine leaned over the table nearest her lord where his cup now sat and refilled it, Biro reached his arm out and wrapped it around her waist, his fingers digging into her side as he pulled her into his lap. The wealthy man finished popping the almonds into his mouth, chewing casually as he placed his now-empty palm against her injured cheek, saying that she was a very beautiful girl and rubbing over her wounds somewhat roughly with his thumb. The Cat turned her false doe eyes upon the man and winced slightly at the pain he was causing her, as it was obvious he meant for her to feel it and she wished to oblige him.

"When I have rested, I shall expect you back here," the wealthy man told her, pressing slightly harder against the discolored and sore spot where Mattine's cheekbone was most prominent. His meaning was clear. Shy away from my advances again and you will know exactly what to expect. She nodded at him and her look was a mixture of submission and fright. This brought a smile to the lord's lips and he pushed her off of his lap and laid back once again against his silken cushions, muttering something about how much like Hellind she was. The cupbearer stood and walked to the table where the tray sat. As the girl gathered up the teapot and tray to return them to the kitchen, she found herself wishing she had used a less-dilute form of Sweetsleep.

As the Lorathi walked in silence next to his master through the courtyard garden, his mind was filled with thoughts of Mattine's broken lip and bruised face. The elder himself seemed lost in his thoughts, though what they concerned, the younger man could not say. For a while, the only sounds were the splashing of the fountain, the twittering of birds in the lemon trees, and the rustling of the leaves and tall, ornamental grasses in the warm breeze. But then, the principal elder addressed his brother and the other sounds faded to the background.

"Perhaps you should tell me what troubles you, brother."

Jaqen sighed very slightly and then answered, "This assignment my apprentice has undertaken may have... unforeseen consequences."

"The assignment you pushed for me to allow her to take, you mean?"

The Kindly Man's amused tone was not lost on his former apprentice. Jaqen reminded the elder that he had secured a place for the girl at the inn, not the manse, and at the inn, she was under the protection of the innkeeper whereas at the manse, she was surrounded by dozens of armed guards who bore her no allegiance and she had no one to rely on but herself for protection.

"Oh, I see you are not entirely aware of the circumstance of your apprentice's situation," the Kindly Man remarked mildly. "Did she not tell you that she was under the protection of a Faceless master?"

The Lorathi's response to his master's words was a mixture of confusion and pique. Of course nothing remained hidden from the principal elder for long, but he had only returned from the manse a spare three hours earlier and already, his master seemed aware not only of the visit itself but of the content of his conversation with his apprentice. As the younger man thought on his master's words, realization washed over him. His brother... the one his lovely girl referred to as the handsome man... He had missed the council meeting and the principal elder had remarked upon the man's inability to see to his own apprentice just then, assigning the task to Jaqen in his stead. This must be the brother in the household of the wealthy man, as he was the only Faceless master not accounted for.

As the Lorathi began to piece together all of the evidence he should have seen that indicated this wrinkle in the task his apprentice had been assigned, he recalled the principal elder's words to him after the most recent council meeting. I am sure that were your brother in your shoes, he would devote himself without question to the Westerosi girl, his master had said, and at the time, the assassin had believed the elder was speaking merely hypothetically. Jaqen did not display the frown he felt forming within but burned to know the true intent behind his master's assignment of another Faceless master to the manse.

And the girl knew her handsome man was there, if the elder was to be believed. Yet, she had said nothing to him... Was this the secret she wished to keep from her master? Was she colluding with a man's brother to bring about the end of the abusive lord? Or was there something else she did not wish a man to know about her relationship with her handsome man? The track his thoughts were taking disturbed him far too greatly for Jaqen to allow them to continue, at least in the presence of the principal elder, and so he asked a question instead.

"Is the gift for this wealthy man of such great importance that two assassins are needed, so that if one should fail, the other can complete the task? Or does an elder know that the manse itself is so dangerous with its retinue of guards that one or the other of the temple's servants are likely to fall?"

"You mistake me, brother," the Kindly Man chuckled. "Please, do not worry so much. It seems to me that you have been... very tense lately. You are not like yourself at all."

The elder had no idea how true were the words he spoke. Or did he?

"A man has always been serious about the work of the order."

"Serious, yes," his master agreed. "But not anxious. The Many-Faced god does not wish to see you so... distressed. And neither do I, brother."

"A man is not distressed," Jaqen assured the elder, though he was not sure he meant it, "though he finds it difficult to understand why so much concerning his own apprentice seems to be purposefully hidden from him."

"Why, brother, after we spoke last about your misgivings about your apprentice's task inside of Biro's manse, I thought you would be pleased that I sent her some protection."

This was most unexpected, the younger man thought.

"So, the master is not present to assist the girl in her delivery of the gift..."

"Oh, no. I have full confidence in the girl's creativity and competence," the elder said, smiling slightly. "He is there merely to ensure that she comes to no real harm during her stay."

The Lorathi thought he should feel relieved at his master's words, yet he did not. The thought of his brother being assigned to stand guard over his lovely girl gave rise to more questions than had just been answered. Was the arrangement truly in response to Jaqen's own concerns? Or was there some other purpose the Kindly Man had for protecting the girl? His sister had said essentially that the Cat was the principal elder's favorite, valued above the others. Or... was it possible that her safety had been... purchased? Protection details were not the specialty of the order, but they had been contracted on occasion, when the gold was right. And he still could not understand why his lovely girl had not told him of his brother's presence in the manse herself. Perhaps she does not yet know he is there, Jaqen reasoned and then he spoke to the elder, countering the older man's assertion about the usefulness of his brother in this assigned task.

"If he is meant to ensure that the girl comes to no harm, he is not a very effective choice, it seems."

"Oh, brother, a blow to the cheek of a Faceless Man is hardly serious harm, no matter how beautiful that cheek may be, wouldn't you agree?"

What would the elder consider serious harm? Jaqen wondered, discomfited by the statement as well as his master's more complete knowledge of the girl's circumstance than his own. The Lorathi had long since given up wondering about how his master gleaned his intelligence. He assumed his handsome brother had managed to leave the manse long enough to make a report at some point after the incident yesterday. What he did wonder about, though, was his master's choice of candidate for this task.

"A man would have gladly fulfilled this role," Jaqen told the elder. "With the trials approaching, a man's brother was not left to train his own apprentice while a man's apprentice was removed from his tutelage and given over to the protection of another. This seems strange."

"Does it?" the Kindly Man replied with disinterest. "I have always thought it rather strange how possessive some masters can be of... certain acolytes."

The Lorathi gave a mildly surprised look at his master's words. Though still slightly subtle, this was the most overt accusation the principal elder had ever made regarding his relationship with his apprentice. Though all masters aided in the training of all acolytes, it was generally accepted that an acolyte would be primarily trained by the master who had recruited him, or, if he had made his way to the temple on his own, then he would be trained primarily by whichever master had agreed to the task. These relationships were respected and it was not strange or suspect for masters and apprentices to spend inordinate amounts of time together and to form bonds. Jaqen had formed such a bond with his own master. It was perhaps a bit more delicate of a situation when the masters and apprentices were of different sexes, a rare occurrence, to be sure, but as the Lorathi had chosen Arya Stark (and given her a new destiny) and as the waif had no interest in taking on a protégé at the time of the girls arrival in the temple (during the Lorathi's early absence), Jaqen's relationship with the girl would not be seen as anything unusual by the other members of the order.

So what did the principal elder see that would lead him to accuse the younger man of possessiveness? And were the words mere observation, or did Jaqen only imagine the tone of warning they seemed to carry?

Wrapped Around Your Finger-The Police (oh, so appropriate)

Take Me Down to the Infirmary-Cracker