24

As Aegon and Nahknani recovered their composure from the terror of the caves, Lem quickly made his way to his intended destination, the food bribe that prompted their dry alternative to crossing. Lying in a soft patch of grass, Nahknani looked around. She seem to vaguely recognize her surroundings and began audibly charting their course to her clan's encampment. When Lem returned, eating his fill of the bribe, they gathered their things and continued into the wood.

This section of forest seemed much less perilous, the three traversed what felt like a great distance in what felt like a short time. The trees fanned out, growing much more sparsely than the dense brush they'd spent their recent time in, and intermittently throughout the trip, small ponds followed a vassal stream, which Nahknani deemed drinkable. She bent over and drank straight from the source. Aegon still felt more comfortable boiling his. She had lived drinking this water her entire life. Her body was used to it. Aegon was obviously not, and considering the extreme wear he'd recently put his body through, he figured it best to err on the side of caution.

The forest floor was covered in dead leaves and yellow moss, softer and almost comfortable to walk on. Docile wildlife filled the air with calls, hoots, and grunts, but their sounds echoed in a more musical way than a threatening one. Nahknani stopped multiple times to pick from thick bushes covered in bright green berries. Aegon tried them. Although the taste was too bitter for his liking, the size and fullness of the berries felt satisfying in his gut. Aegon filled the leaf pouch with them, knowing their food stores were low after bribing Lem with the remaining hahkyeen.

As far as he'd seen, this was the most desirable section of the forest so far, lands in the domain of Nahknani's father and clan. Lands which remained, it seemed, a reason for the dispute looming over the all of the Brindled People he had met and heard of. A topic that now recovered and across the river, he felt the best to discuss now, before arriving at the encampment.

After their third stop at a pond, they sat to eat and drink he said, "I spoke with your uncle at length. He opened up to me about his exile. You know of it?"

Without pausing, which was unusual, she responded, "I was not yet old enough to be involved in the decision. I am aware of it, but all I know is why my father felt it best that he be sent away. He was too powerful with all his warriors to be trusted. He posed a threat to the peace of the community and was sent away. Other than that, it has not been something anyone wishes to speak of. It is not something commonly asked or easily answered. From what I'm told, people of my clan respected my uncle and he was well liked. I remember him fondly, though I was just a youngling." Aegon could hear the affection in her voice as she seemed to stare off in the distance to reminisce as she spoke. Should I even tell her what he said? How could I not knowing we are going into the same den that allowed the slaughter of his family?

"Do you remember your aunt and cousin?"

"I remember little of my aunt, though I don't know what ever happened to her. Is she at the camp with him?"

He knew he'd have to tread carefully with Ootrahk's story. Daughters rarely found stories of their father's monstrosities easy to hear. Even more rarely would they accept them as truth, especially from both the lips of a relative stranger and the words of an exiled general. "The story he told me, why he was exiled, involved your aunt and cousin," he paused both nervous and hesitant, hoping he was taking the right tact, ". . and father."

"And? Why do you act like this? What is this story?" This is already starting off wrong.

"He told me your father allowed the brutal murder of your aunt and cousin at the hands of JaHarle 'The Thief in the Night'."

She looked puzzled and said, "JaHarle Yisstrihk? Old Yarl? He could not have done such a thing as this. Why would my uncle have issue with Old Yarl?"

"He said JaHarle was known as 'The Thief in the Night' for taking women and girls from your clan over the river and claiming them as their own. He would sell the women back saying they crossed on their own, insulting the council and the men of the clan and continuing to blatantly break the laws of your people with no consequence. Your aunt and cousin were taken once. Your uncle fought to get them back and in the process killed all that guarded them, JaHarle's mother among the dead. For that, JaHarle ordered the deaths of him and his family, though his family was killed first and he fought back to save his own life. This is what he told me before he let me go, back to you, which he knew you were following the whole time."

The shocking news left her face aghast and paler. He didn't know whether to console her or prepare for an altercation, but the story she was told affected her deeply."Old Yarl has been like an uncle to me for as long as I can remember. I am supposed to be joined with his son upon the new year and together we may rule both clan's as one council. I cannot see him doing a thing as this." Her face turned, twisting as if she tasted something foul. "You say my uncle set you free to find me? He must have told you this to cause dissention in our ranks." Her face strained to remain stoic, though he could see emotion welling behind the stone face she displayed.

The forest floor rustled around them. Lem yelped, but as they checked for what moved, there was nothing but roots and branches beneath the layer of fallen leaves. "We can continue this as we move, yes?" She asked.

We should finish this conversation before I face captivity again. He thought, "We can move, yes, but are we sure we are going somewhere safe?"

"My father will know what to do. We will go to him and tell him about all you've seen and heard and he will help us judge the best way." Aegon was worried she'd think that. From what he could tell, Nahknani's father cared only for the life of himself and his daughter, if he even cared about that.

"Your uncle said that JaHarle's clan has steel. Is that true?"

"True enough. I have never seen his warriors bear it in our lands, though he makes mention of it many times in more heated talks with our people. Years ago when my uncle was exiled, our people needed protection. Old Yarl provided us with men and spears to help guard against dangers and enemies on both sides of our territory, especially the edges that border the lands my uncle was exiled to. None are allowed to cross branches of the river uninvited. For years Old Yarl's men have had many battles with the exiles, and won them all. None of my uncle's raids has ever been successful."

"So JaHarle's warriors are the ones charged with protecting your people? Have they ever abused their power? Are they good men?"

"You ask are they good. Like you say, 'Do they do the right thing.' I don't know of this. I know that some of them are good at killing. I know some of them are good at hunting. Or tracking. But warriors are warriors. They live their life with blood in their mouth. After they return from a successful battle, my people offer," she paused, "gifts. For all transactions, there is payment."

Aegon could tell from the tone of her voice that the payment in many senses was not "what was right." Her telling of the circumstances made her clan sound more like captives than partners with JaHarle, and as it seemed, Nahknani had grown up in a culture of oppression she had become accustomed to. Without their own fighting force to stand up to injustices, her people were no more than sheep to be used as JaHarle seemed fit. Furthermore, what were the chances of any group winning all their battles? The "battles" they mentioned, were more likely as imaginary as their peace.

"So they take women as their 'gifts' then?" He asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"You must understand," she said in a defensive tone, "Our people are more brutal than in your pink world. We live in a place that kills us as often as it provides for us. Men and women are raised to know the savage truths of life here, and we live in a way the pink could not survive."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes. The women are their gifts," she admitted. So he went from stealing the women away to expecting their cooperation with one strategic exile.

"Your women. The women of your clan. Your father permits this?"

"He expects it. It is the least we can do for the protection we're provided."

"And those you are protected from are the same men that have been exiled from their families? Would these men hurt your women? Their women?"

As she continued to defend the ways of her people, her fervor behind each argument dwindled. Her face had changed and the playful sass he expected from every quip she retorted was replaced with a somber defeated reply of, "I don't know."

Aegon usually relished in winning arguments, swaying people's notions of what they thought was right into believing his opinion. He could not relish in Nahknani's realization of the truth of her people. Of her father. It was clear to Aegon the more and more Nahknani explained of her people, that her father was one of two things. Either he was a weak, craven overseer allowing the brutal rape and torture of his people for fear of conflict with JaHarle's clan or he was a complicit monster in league with the neighboring clan's leader systemically dishing sorrow to his people for personal gain. Aegon hoped he was the former, for if he were to meet a man that fit the description of the latter, he would not survive his trip to her clan's territory. He might not survive either way.

Aegon wanted to finish discussing the specifics to know how to proceed and who was involved. "These warriors. Are they led by someone? Is there a captain of your guard?"

She replied, defeated, "Old Yarl's son JaHahn Yisstryhk is the leader of our guard."

"Your betrothed."

"Betrothed?" She asked, tilting her head.

"It means who you are promised to. You said you were to be joined with him upon the new year."

"Yes. It is a pact as our people have and will become one. Old Yarl's clan and ours will form into one large clan upon the passing of both my father and Old Yarl. They will both live for many years, it seems, but once they've passed, it will be a joint rule."

"I thought your people chose leaders to a council? You do see how this 'Old Yarl' fits more of the description of your uncle's story than the man you have come to know. Or thought you knew. None of this is done to help your people. None of this was done to keep peace. It was a take-over. JaHarle has conquered you and your clan with little more than threats. Your father has allowed your people to become his thralls, your women his pleasure slaves, and your lands his own. What are we going to do when we get to your home?"

"My father loves our people. He would not see them die." She looked grief stricken. The ideal of her father had fully melted away into the truth of who and what he was.

"Some might say it is better to die fighting injustice than living blindly while injustice spreads. Where is your mother? Is she part of the council too?"

"No," she replied quickly with a sober, somewhat grave tone. He couldn't continue to berate her in this for fear of losing her as an ally, but he wanted to make sure she understood what they'd have to do to survive this. "She left my father when I was young, crossing over to the other side of the river. I have not seen her since I can remember and my father has only ever spoke lovingly of her."

He took her too. He probably still has her. And Nahknani's father lives and serves in fear of what might happen to her.

It was an understandable circumstance despite how fervently he disagreed with it. Fear can be a very powerful motivator, and the fear of suffering on those you love may just well be the strongest.

"He has your mother too, most like. We are walking into the den of the enemy now, you know this for the truth now, don't you?"

"No," she said, glaring back both in defiance and denial. "We will sneak in to meet my father alone and discuss with him what should be done. What you say may be, but what you say could also be lies from our enemy. You know nothing of our ways, Aegon the Valyrian."

It was the best he could hope for. Traipsing into the encampment guarded by JaHarle's men with news of JaHarle's alliance with Ghiscari slavers would most likely be met in the same way Ootrahk greeted him, or worse. He was glad to be healed, and free. He wasn't intent on rushing into another captivity. At least confronting Nahknani's father individually, she could potentially sway him into trusting Aegon, though it would make little difference if Nahknani's father was the craven owned and controlled by JaHarle that Aegon suspected.

They waited for the cover of darkness as he, she, and Lem loitered a quarter mile outside of the encampment until nightfall. She knew the best ways to sneak in and out, something she must have been accustomed to, circling around the posted guards and slipping into the hide tent Nahknani designated as her father's.

They found him sitting, cross- legged, with his eyes closed on a bed of leaves. He seemed like he was meditating or in prayer. Nahknani had never mentioned god or the gods, but faith in some form seemed to permeate through all of the known world, why not here?

She reached out for his shoulder and gently nudged him into the now. He slowly opened his eyes, a sharp blue to match his daughter's, saw her and smiled, his mouth stretching across revealing his fangs.

He was much slighter than Ootrahk, though he seemed taller. His long, thinner limbs wrapped around him in his meditative pose, like snakes, nimbly bent in an almost unnatural looking position. His face was lined with years, even through the thick ashy gray pelt which sprouted thin course hair, balding in the pattern of a pink man with a widow's peak, his hair pulled back in a widow's knot. He wore similar garb to Nahknani, vines tightly wrapped around, but his chest was bare, still built, but not as full as the warriors he'd already been exposed to. He had the same jaw, the same unibrow, and the same fierce expression as his brother, but the burning fire he saw in Ootrahk had fizzled out long ago. The only trace of vivacity in him, was the spark that kindled in his eyes as he recognized his daughter's touch.

Aegon stood in the shadows of the tent until Nahknani introduced him. He spoke lovingly to her, in a soft concerned voice. They spoke in their native tongue, so Aegon could only guess their words by the inflection of their voices and the gestures they made as they spoke. Logically, one could deduce the father's words went something like, "Nani, it is so good to see you," based on the joy in his eyes and longing in his tone. Which then switched to something like, "We were worried. You should not have been gone so long," as his tone altered to stern and concerned. Only to shift back into a loving soft tone, as the two embraced.

She began her own explanation, it seemed, as to why she had been gone. She spoke, then pointed to Aegon, gesturing for him to step out from the shadows. She switched from her native tongue to Valyrian saying, "I'd like to introduce you to the reason I am still alive. This man saw me struggling under the fallen tree and saved me." She's since saved me as well. "His name is Aegon Velaryon, a trader from Westeros. His ship was destroyed and he washed up here. He's seen much and more and I've brought him here to speak with you."

The man adjusted his long legs then stood. His head and shoulders kept rising until he was taller than even Ootrahk, though huddled in a crouch under the tent. The gleam in his eye extinguished as his gaze turned from his daughter to the stranger. The lines on his forehead crunched the dry cracking skin together as he furrowed his one brow into a fierce scowl. "Thanks is in order. For saving my daughter, I and my people are forever grateful. However, you must go. This is not the best time for us to be entertaining strangers, I fear. Go now."

Nahknani replied to her father in her own tongue with the same sass she'd demonstrated the entire time he'd known her. Her face flashed expressively as each guttural word shot out of her mouth like a crossbow of dissention, her hands and body moving as much as her lips. Her father responded stoic as a stone, unmoved by his daughter's plea.

She switched back to Valyrian, saying, "Father, he came to us knowing the danger it presented only to tell us what he thought would keep us safe. He is good for the sake of good. He does, not thinking of what he wants to gain, but what other's might lose. Tell him, Aegon the Valyrian. Tell him what you've seen. What you've come to know."

He did. He opened up to Nahknani's father, who had still yet to introduce himself, about all of it. Of his brother's clan's trade deal with the Ghiscari in the forest. Of the three Ghiscari and their talk of treachery. Of the ships he'd seen and the attack on Ootrahk's camp. He told him all that he'd seen, holding on to the truth of what he knew until the rest had been explained.

"Ootrahk is your brother, right?" Aegon asked, hoping the admission of their kinship would help solicit feelings of guilt to help his cause.

"I called the man many things. Some true, some not, but my brother he will always be." He said in the best Valyrian he'd heard yet from the Brindled Men.

"Well, your brother took me aside wondering why I would warn him. He said he planned to lead an attack on 'His people' as he said, but then later clarified. He wasn't planning to attack you but JaHarle. He meant to avenge his family and reclaim the lands and people he has all but conquered."

"Tread carefully. My gratefulness and graciousness are not unlimited. You have spoken out of turn and already said too much. None of the business of my people should concern you and you must go now or forever regret your hesitation." His speech sounded reminiscent of his brother's upon their first meeting.

"Your brother was attacked by Ghiscari. They mean to enslave your . ."Aegon started.

Her father broke in, "I told you that is not your concern."

"Father," she said, "he has risked his life now, twice to help us. He says he knows of the man who leads the Ghiscari, Zlatan zo Xuxus, and that he is a man we should fear. He betrayed uncle's men already and means to come for us too."

He spoke to her in their tongue, deferring to his daughter in tone, if not in words. They went back and forth with each other. His words in a sullen monotone. Hers stressed in a desperate plea. Between spats back and forth, Nahknani would avert her concerned gaze quickly to Aegon, then back to her father as if she were pleading for his life. There's a chance she is and it doesn't seem like she's winning.

"Again, friend, you must go and you must go now! Any further delay will cause much more than harm."

Aegon felt his chance to sway him dwindling away, "What do you not understand? If you care for your people as much as your daughter believes you do, you'd at least hear me out. JaHarle is in league with the Ghiscari and your people are the next to be enslaved."

He broke in, shouting loud enough for the entire camp to hear, "If every woman and child left in this village must be enslaved to save my kin, then I will close the shackles! It is not for you to decide, this is not a choice. It is either do as they say or my daughter will die!" He turned to Nahknani and spoke their tongue. His eyes seemed to say I'm sorry.

"Father, no!" she pushed by him and grabbed Aegon by the shoulder, pulling him towards the tent's exit with haste.

He let out a shriek, calling out loudly.

"What is he saying," he asked as they slipped out of the tent and into the darkness.

"He's yelling to the guards. The Valyrian intruder is here."

My reputation precedes me.