We held our council of war that night in a large upper chamber in the Tower of Ghosts. The room was drafty from the cracks and fissures in the walls but it was as secure as we could make it. The rooms below us were filled with hundreds of Company brothers and the chamber doors were guarded. The room itself was sealed thanks to the sorcery of Flint and Chains who had warded it against eavesdroppers. Any adventurous spy who managed to slip past the guards or scale the tower walls would hear nothing but the wail of wind and the hum of conversation just quiet enough to be unintelligible.

Once all of the council was present the Captain rose. "I know none of us have had a chance to rest yet, but this matter is urgent and time is against us. Our employer has requested that the Company retrieve his son Jaime Lannister who is currently imprisoned in Riverrun."

Murmurs. Standardbearer Quith cursed quietly.

"We have three days to prepare, then we march north towards the ruby ford. Lord Lannister will be issuing us orders to retake it from the northerners in order to divert suspicion about our sudden departure. Once we are safely away from prying eyes a small picked group will leave the Company and head west for Riverrun. This council is to determine who will go to Riverrun and accomplish this task."

"I volunteer," I spoke up immediately. "You said it yourself, Captain, this is important for the Company. I should be there for the Annals."

"Duly noted, Annalist," he responded, "but we are considering all recommendations here."

"I'll go." Flint growled. "You'll need one of us at least."

"I agree." Chains said.

"Does anyone disagree?" the Captain asked.

No one spoke up. The Lieutenant uncorked a bottle of wine she had produced from somewhere.

"Very well," the Captain pronounced. "Flint will go to Riverrun. Who else?"

"Priest," First Sergeant Glimmer suggested. "The man can be anyone and everyone."

"Agreed," Chains said. "Somewhat unnerving to be honest."

The Lieutenant chuckled. "Says the wizard."

"Priest," the Captain said. "Who else?"

XXX

Flint. Priest. Stents. Jaenor. Walker. Smiles. Thrush. Grayback. Spatter. The final list of men approved by the council. I had gotten my wish and would be heading west with the Company's handpicked cutthroats and rogues. I suppose I should have felt honored to be included in their number, but it had been a long day. I went in search of my bedroll.

Three days. The Company had gotten its official orders to march east to the ruby ford. The quartermasters and blacksmiths were a frenzy of frantic activity as supplies were gathered, equipment was repaired, replaced, or 'found', and the thousand and one things needed to keep the Company running were somehow acquired. By good fortune my own equipment was in good condition, not to mention I would get first pick for any needed requisition due to my part in the mission. With these matters not requiring my attention, I had time for more important things, namely exploring Harrenhal.

I started with the Tower of Ghosts. The three lowest floors had been cleared by the Company, with the refuse and trash having been dumped a short distance away next to a ruined sept. The sept itself was in such poor shape that it was practically falling down. My cursory exploration found nothing inside but bird's nests and moldering bits of wood. Whoever the previous owners of Harrenhal had been, they clearly had better things to do than worship the gods. The inside of the Tower of Ghosts was hardly in better shape. I started with the empty fourth floor and slowly worked my way up. The rooms had not been emptied when they were abandoned, and some of the decayed furniture was intact enough to guess at its original purpose. One room still had a rotting heap of fabric and wood that had once been a massive four-poster bed. Another had a crumbled chest with a decomposing lump of fabric spilling out. The tower itself was crumbling away as well. Despite their thickness the walls were cracked and split with fissures where the stone had shattered or melted away. The floors were in better shape. Fortunately they had been built out of stone rather than wood which would have rotted away over the years.

I climbed higher, pausing to light my lantern as I went. The rooms and passages were increasingly choked with rubble on the higher floors, with the walls collapsed and melted into mounds of slag and fused stone. The floor was uneven and wavy, like frozen wax. The upper floors were empty of everything but colonies of bats and a few piles of charred and crumbled beams. Disappointing but not unexpected. I supposed dragon eggs were too much to hope for.

The Wailing Tower was next. Shorter and wider than the Tower of Ghosts, it was actually in use by our employer as a storehouse, at least on the ground floor. I had to dodge servants and pages while I hunted for the stairs up. Eventually I gave up and collared a passing servant girl.

"Where are the stairs up to the next floor?"

She looked startled. "The stairs up, my lord?"

"Aye, those."

She eyed my lantern and dusty clothes. "Down this hall, fourth door on the left. Follow that passage until it ends, then go through the right hand archway."

"Ah, that way. My thanks." I said.

She nodded briefly and scurried away.

The Wailing Tower was even more ruinous than the Tower of Ghosts. The walls and floors were shattered and collapsed in many places and the walls were riddled with cracks and fissures. The wind whipping through the cracks certainly sounded like the wailing of the tortured damned. Certainly couldn't have been pleasant for the servants below to have to listen to it every day. Past the sixth floor the stairs were completely blocked with rubble. I managed to scramble up to the next floor through a hole in the ceiling and was rewarded with a sweeping vista of Harrenhal below me. One wall had fallen away entirely, revealing a spectacular view of the castle grounds, outer wall, and lake beyond it. I made my way cautiously over to the edge, testing my footing as I went. Crouching at the edge I could look down on the small figures below me scurrying around like insects as they hurried along the paths between the towers and the wall. It was quite a view, perched on the edge of the ruined tower like a bird looking down on the humans who toiled away far below. As high up as I was, I found I was not the first human to enjoy the view since the dragons burned the towers. Close at hand I discovered two rolled up blankets and several mostly empty wine bottles carefully tucked away in a niche in the stone. The hidden lair of some adventurous servant or guard? I carefully searched the area for clues but found nothing else except for a few strange symbols chalked on the wall. Probably nothing more than idle scribbles but I sketched them down for later reference.

After my descent I took a break from climbing towers to eat my noon meal and explore the grounds and godswood. Harrenhal's godswood was a small forest of pines and evergreens that looked oddly out of place: a small piece of some wild northern forest transplanted inside the castle walls. A narrow stone path led to the center where a white weirwood tree grew beside a small stream. The northerners loved their weirwoods but they were rarer down south. Apparently the Faith of the Seven frowned on men worshiping trees and had cut most of them down in the past. I almost wished they had taken an axe to this one. Someone had carved a furiously snarling face into its trunk with a twisted, jagged mouth and deep-set eyes that seemed to follow you as you approached it.

"If looks could kill," I said to it as I stood in its shade. "Gods, you're ugly. Bet you've seen some shit too."

I studied the trunk. Someone had scored thirteen marks into the tree's side. They stood out against its white bark like a dagger slash on a maiden's neck.

"Your kind doesn't bear fruit, do you?" I said, half to myself and half to the tree. "Not that I would want to eat it, mind you."

The tree rustled its leaves and said nothing.

I was no great artist, but this was the first weirwood I had seen in person, so I endeavored to make a quick sketch of the face. It could serve as a reference for any future weirwoods I might see. Future generations of annalists could thank me for the nightmares.

The last three towers were inaccessible. Kingspyre and the Widow's Tower had been occupied by Lannister nobles and knights, and the Tower of Dread housed the northern prisoners taken at the battle of the ruby ford. Sellswords were not permitted to wander nearby without good cause. I headed back to the Company's tower.

Flint waylaid me at the entrance. "Spatter, my quarters." he growled. I followed.

His quarters were a large square room on the third floor. The doorway had a blanket tacked across it and several arcane symbols chalked above it. The other members of our team were already gathered inside. Flint seated himself on a stone block and surveyed the room.

"Nothing we discuss here leaves this room." he began.

"Alright, I confess, I was the one who fucked Walker's mother." Thrush piped up.

"The sad thing is you think that's funny." Walker said quietly.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Flint growled. "The Captain and the council have picked us for a job. When the Company leaves here in three days we're heading west to Riverrun. That's the Tully's stronghold and they're chief bannermen to the Starks so the place will be packed to the battlements with the enemy. Our job is to get in, break Jaime Lannister out of the dungeons, and get him back to his father. As you can guess from the size of the group here, this is to be done quick and quiet. Other than that, we have a free hand. I want to hear from Priest and Stents first, I know you two have done this before."

Priest nodded. "Aye, it was a scepter instead of a man, but same idea. That was where, somewhere along the Rhoyne?"

Stents shrugged.

"Valysar." I spoke up.

"Aye, there. We bribed a few servants, slipped in, grabbed the scepter and slipped out again. Then we almost got caught on the way out, had to hide in a tanning pit. Thought that smell would never come off."

Stents nodded.

"Getting in is usually easy enough," Priest continued. "There's always a back door, or an overworked servant, or a bored maid, or a greedy guard. It's getting out again with whatever you were after that's the trick."

"Hold that thought for now," Flint produced a map and unrolled it on the floor. "Jaenor, weigh down those two corners there." We gathered around the map as Flint and Jaenor secured the corners.

"Right, here's us at Harrenhal-" Flint said.

"Lovely and lively it is." Thrush interjected.

"and – shut it, Thrush – here's Riverrun to our west. How far do you make that, Spatter?"

I eyeballed the distance. "Maybe ninety, ninety-five leagues."

"Six days hard riding." Smiles pronounced.

"There and back," Priest said. "And that's as the raven flies, mind you. The road follows the river mostly. Better tack on another ten leagues to be safe."

"What about the river?" Walker said. "Better than riding and it flows close to the castle."

"Aye, right under its walls," Flint grunted. "But the current flows east, not west. Perhaps for our escape though."

"I think our approach should be simple and quiet," I said. "We dress as smallfolk and say we're seeking refuge from enemy raiders. Tell some story about our farms being burned or some shit like that."

Grayback chuckled. "I like it."

Flint rubbed his chin. "That could work. Risky though, none of us know this region well enough to counterfeit being locals. They're damn sure to question us about where we come from and whose men we are."

Jaenor raised a hand. "Also, some of us can't pass for locals."

"Have to leave you behind then," Thrush grinned. "Sucks to be you, you gorgeous bastard."

"Foreign sellswords," Smiles suggested. "Keep the lie simple."

"That'll get us into the castle but under watch," Priest said. "We need to be below suspicion."

"We'll be northerners," Thrush said. "We use the armor we looted at the green fork and ride in as messengers from the north bearing a message for Stark. We'll be above suspicion and still keep our arms and armor."

"Of course you'd suggest mummery." Walker murmured.

"That could work but the message would take some crafting," I said. "It would need to be long enough or not urgent enough so they wouldn't just send a raven."

"What about something truly audacious?" Grayback grinned. "We show up as ourselves with an offer from the Company to switch sides."

"This isn't the time for audacious," Flint growled. "We need to be ignored and overlooked."

"I think the smallfolk plan is our best chance at that." Priest said.

"And Jaenor?" Walker asked.

"Jaenor can wear a fucking hood," Flint said. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too, should help us to stay unnoticed."

Thrush rubbed his hands together. "Right then, where are we from?"

XXX

We settled on Stone Hedge. It was the right direction from Riverrun and we had some knowledge of its lands and lord thanks to our marches across the Riverlands. We would masquerade as subjects of House Bracken from some small village near the river who were fleeing Lannister raiders, make our way to Riverrun, discover Jaime Lannister's location, quietly break him out, and flee east to either the Black Company or Lannister forces. Flint and I were great believers in keeping plans simple and flexible.

We spent the next two days preparing. Flint, Stents, Jaenor, and Thrush rode out to find a cart and horse and assorted odds and ends that Flint required. Priest and I hunted down every scrap of information we could find on Riverrun: defenses, layout, and surroundings. We found very little, meaning we would have to study the castle in person. Walker and Smiles were somewhat more successful: they found a Riverland merchant hawking 'Seven-blessed relics' to Lannister soldiers. Over a bottle of wine he told them about his travels through the area as well as stories about growing up with an uncle in Mudgrave. They plied him with more wine and came away with numerous stories about the area, a rough map of House Bracken's northern holdings marked with notable villages and local landmarks, and two tiny hammered copper shields strung on leather thongs and marked with the seven-pointed star which the merchant swore would protect them in battle if worn over the heart. Walker lost his relic in a card game that night. Smiles carefully tucked his away beneath his shirt.

"Laugh if you want," he said. "I've seen shit. Don't know if you can make a god happy but I'm sure as shit not going to make one angry."

I cast no judgments. We all have our beliefs and superstitions, our pre-battle rituals and routines. There are few devout men in the Black Company but many who pray fervently before battle. If there are any gods who watch over us I suspect they are bloody-handed ones.

XXX

The Black Company marched north towards the river. The plan was to launch an attack on the ruby ford, but the Black Company would not fully commit to battle. Instead, the Company would gradually edge west along the Red Fork as though seeking an unguarded ford. This would shorten the distance that the rescue party would have to travel back through hostile territory. Once Jaime Lannister was safely inside the Black Company's camp, nothing short of the full Stark army could drag him out again. Of course, we had to break him out of Riverrun first.

Our party set out on the third day of the march north. Black Company scouts screened our departure to help ensure no northerners spotted a horse and cart with nine ordinary looking smallfolk leaving a mercenary camp. We had left our armor and weapons behind and were dressed in dusty and patched clothes. Aside from stout staves and knives stuck through our belts we were unarmed. I missed the comforting weight of my sword at my side, but I missed my boots most of all. Peasant shoes were a poor substitute. I suspected I would have a blister or two by nightfall. Most of the others felt the same, except for Walker who mocked us all as soft.

We traveled west and north along lesser used trails between the charred shells of burned out riverland villages. Lannister raiders had swept through the area some weeks before and left nothing standing. We moved as quickly as we dared through this dangerous no man's land and reached the Red Fork after several days. With the river on our right hand we headed west along the river road. There was a trickle of traffic along the river road, mostly groups of fleeing smallfolk and occasional parties of armed men who bore no banners or sigils and who might have been raiders, brigands, deserters, local militia, or anything in between. We stayed quiet and kept our heads down as much as possible. Most passed us by without a glance although Priest worried about the lack of women and children in our group and how strange it would look to a suspicious man.

We finally encountered Tully bannermen after a week or so on the river road. Half a dozen mounted men-at-arms with a green tree on their shields and banner rode up to us as we cooked our noon meal by the roadside. Stents, who was on watch, whistled a warning as they approached.

"Remember your stories, brothers," Priest said in a low voice as he watched them ride up. "Stick to them and we'll be fine."

"Gods, I was about to confess before you said that." Thrush giggled.

Flint growled in his throat and Thrush subsided.

"Who are you and where are you bound?" the foremost soldier demanded, reining up at the edge of our camp.

"We are honest farmers an' herders from near Mudgrave, m'lord," Priest said humbly. "From Oakbridge, a small village but perhaps m'lords have heard of it?"

The soldier made an impatient gesture as though shooing away a fly. "I care not where your village lies. You are traveling through Tully lands. Where are you bound?"

"To Riverrun, m'lord," Priest said. "We've heard of Lord Tully's offer to shelter smallfolk from raiders an' rapers. Our own village was burned near a fortnight ago an' we only escaped with what we could carry."

"Have you seen any Lannister raiders since you left your village?" the soldier demanded.

Priest shook his head. "No, m'lord. We did see some armed men some leagues back but they looked nothing like the men that burned our village."

The soldier was spurring his horse into motion before Priest had even finished speaking. "You are two day's ride from Riverrun," he said shortly. "Follow the road."

Priest did his best imitation of a humble bow as the soldiers cantered away. We watched them go until they disappeared around a bend in the road.

"I feel vaguely insulted." Thrush said. "I didn't get to tell them my backstory."

"Most likely they're seeing a lot of smallfolk heading to Riverun," I said. "Good news for us, a crowd is the perfect place to hid."

"Two day's ride." Flint said thoughtfully.

"Maybe three for us," Walker said. "Longer if you shits take any longer to finish cooking that gruel."

Jaenor brandished his cooking stick. "You want to come over here and fuck it up, be my guest. It'll be done when it's done and not before because I'm not eating raw grain again."

Walker shrugged. "I'm a hunter not a cook."

"So you keep saying."

Priest pulled me aside as they bickered. "I think we should try to join up with another group of smallfolk before we arrive at Riverrun. We need to be as inconspicuous as possible for this to work."

"I think it's working already from what I can see." I said.

Priest ran a hand through his beard. "I'm not comfortable with us out in the open like this. We need something around us to distract and other people are perfect for that."

I shrugged. "If we encounter another group then I'm all for joining them, but we're not going to wait here and hope one happens along. We're on a timetable here."

Priest nodded reluctantly

I tried to reassure him. "Besides, we've got a wizard with us, right? Just try to rein in that paranoia of yours."

XXX

We sighted Riverrun in the middle of a torrential thunderstorm. The driving sheets of rain flooded the road into a sheet of sludgy muck and hid the tops of the towers that seemed to rise out of the river itself. We slowly made our way towards it. The outerworks loomed out of the rain as we approached. The riverlanders had dug trenches on each side of the road and topped them with sharpened stakes. Wooden watchtowers stood guard over them. The road itself was closed off by a wooden barricade bristling with spikes. No one challenged us as we trudged towards it. As we reached it a pair of miserable looking guards in oilskin cloaks and fish crested helms splashed out of the downpour towards us. They dragged aside the barricade and waved us through without a word. We kept our heads down and hurried on as best we could. The road split: one branch continued west along the Red Fork, the other turned north. A solid stone bridge spanned the river there. We made our way carefully across it, the stones slick with rain and spattered with mud.

Riverrun was built on a peninsula bounded on one side by the Red Fork and on the other by a smaller but swifter river. The Tullys had dug out a moat on the land side of the castle and diverted part of the river into it, turning Riverrun into an island. It was a strong position. It would take a patient commander to capture it, or perhaps a clever one. We were not here to capture it and so walked in through its open gates, the guards giving us only cursory glances. I understood why once we were through the gates. The space between the outer and inner walls was a solid mass of humanity packed into tents, shelters, lean-tos, and temporary buildings of all kinds. It looked like half the smallfolk of the Riverlands had crammed themselves behind the walls of Riverrun.

"Gods," Priest muttered. "Look at the poor bastards."

"All the better," Flint growled. "Let's see if we can't get closer to the keep."

We had no success with that, however. The guards on the inner gates were sympathetic up to a point, but would not be cajoled into letting us pass. It was the outer bailey or nothing.

We finally succeeded in setting up camp on the far side of the castle, near the angle in the wall formed by the peninsula point. We tipped the cart on its side and wedged one end against the wall, creating a small space for us to rest and plan. Flint, Priest, and Thrush left to circulate through the crowds and get the lay of the land while the rest of us got our little camp organized and – as far as possible – waterproof. The people around us were vaguely curious but watchful. They huddled in clots and clumps, neighbors with neighbors. Our actions only interested them as far as moving objects naturally attracted the eye.

The rain had died away by the time our brothers got back.

"A few days," Priest boasted over a steaming pot of gruel. "and then we walk out again with our prize."

Thrush concurred. He had walked along the walls and spoken with the guards, who had tolerated his presence after he had regaled them with a carefully distorted version of the sack of Fairmarket. It had not taken long to twist the conversation towards the topic of Jaime Lannister. The guards were proud of their dangerous captive and talked at length about the number of men he had killed before being dragged down and captured. He was never allowed outside, the guards said, and four of them were always on hand when he was fed.

Flint said nothing except to cryptically mutter, "The head is sick and the heart knows it."

XXX

We set to work the next day. The castle was slowly explored, first the outer walls, then the inner. Servants, guards, craftsmen, and tradesmen were carefully pumped for information and their various scraps of knowledge were pieced together into something usable. Supplies were painstakingly located, acquired, and cached for later use. Jaime Lannister's cell was located and the routes in and out were plotted. The trick, of course, was getting out again. There was some debate over what the best way to escape would be. The two leading plans were escaping by boat from the castle walls or escaping out the main gate still disguised as smallfolk, although a third plan of setting fire to the castle and escaping in the confusion had its supporters.

I was going over the guard watch changes with Jaenor when Priest stuck his head into the tent, looking both furtive and pleased with himself.

"Ho, you two stop playing with each other and follow me." he said.

We followed him through the squalid maze of shelters until he turned into a somewhat organized ring of tents near the southern wall. Inside the ring were women and children, mostly clustered around cook fires. One woman with a butcher knife in her hand half rose as we entered but checked herself at Priest's nod. He continued on across the ring and ducked into one of the tents. We followed. Inside the tent the air was stuffy and heavy with the smell of dried herbs. An old woman wrapped in sheepskin stared at us unblinkingly from behind a low table.

"Here they are, grandmother," Priest said, seating himself on the rug across from the crone.

The old woman raked her gaze over the two of us. Her eyes burned like two little coals beneath her wrinkled lids.

"Your brothers?" she croaked. "Was your father blind?"

Priest grinned. "Drunk, more likely. But we'll see your wishes done, never fear."

She grunted, fumbling in a pouch at her side. "Bloodroot. Fresh as you like. And I know just how to prepare it for you." She produced a neatly tied bundle of red, tuberous roots. "As soon as all's done."

"That's why we're here, grandmother." Priest said patiently.

She just stared at him for a moment, rocking back and forth. "Owen." she finally said, muttering the name like a curse. "I want Owen. He's the one who did it." Her voice roughened. "He raped my Addy."

Priest nodded. "And lord Tully won't give you justice."

The old woman laughed bitterly. "You need witnesses for justice."

"A raped girl isn't a witness?" Priest asked.

The old woman's eyes flicked downwards. "It was dark. He took her from behind. But I know it was him!" she insisted, rocking in her seat. "He's always wanted her. Always had his eye on my Addy."

Priest, Jaenor, and I exchanged glances. I shrugged. Jaenor flicked a sign of assent.

"We believe you." Priest said in a passable imitation of sincerity. "So what kind of justice were you looking for from us?"

"The kind that's due a raper like Owen," the old woman said. "Gelding." She made a snipping motion with two fingers. "So he can never hurt another girl like he hurt my Addy."

Priest nodded. "So how do we find him?"

"He goes fishing in the Red Fork every day," she said. "Look for him there. Big, burly man with a black beard and a scarred face." She drew her fingers down the left side of her face.

Priest flashed her a reassuring grin. "We'll find him. Have the potion ready for us."

We filed out of the tent and back into the mass of people.

"You know," Jaenor said thoughtfully. "One of us is going to have to carry the proof back with us in case the old woman wants to see it."

"Hate to do this to you, but I'm going to pull rank in this case," I said hastily. "Being the Annalist and all."

"Who died and made you an officer?" Priest grunted.

"See, that's actually a complex issue that you've touched on," I said. "Now it's true that traditionally the position of Annalist is held by a Company brother who is not a sworn officer, however in certain cases the two positions are held by the same person. For example, in the Book of Lad-"

"Pay no attention to his ravings," Priest advised Jaenor. "He gets these crazy ideas where he imagines he's better than us and wears an officer's badge."

"Sad to see." Jaenor said.

"Don't hold it against him," Priest said. "Not his fault. Took a bad knock to the head back in Qohor forest, hasn't been right since. We try to help as much as we can but he keeps getting worse and worse."

"You do know I'm the one who records your actions, right?" I said. It would be a shame if your heroics were attributed to some other brother because of a slip of the pen."

"Crap," Priest said. "You took an oath. Besides, you start making shit up and all your Annalist ancestors come back from the plain of stones and haunt your lying ass."

"True. That does weigh on one's mind. Doesn't mean I have to detail everything though."

Jaenor snickered. "Like what we're about to do now?"

"I might exercise some judicial brevity, yes." I admitted.

There were no black bearded men with scars at the river. We strolled along the bank and tried to look inconspicuous. Jaenor found a group of fishermen staking out a net near the bank and wandered over to talk to them. We were almost ready to call it quits when a stocky, black bearded man with scarring down one side of his face walked out of the woods with a freshly cut pole in his hand.

"A few minutes one way or another make quite a difference, don't they?" Priest said.

"Isn't that the truth, brother." I answered as we started towards our target.

XXX

We convened with the others that afternoon outside the castle walls and plotted out our next move. Priest's acquisition of the bloodroot potion had tipped the scales in favor of his plan to poison the guards on duty and escape with the prisoner before the alarm could be raised. Flint and Smiles weren't convinced that the potion would be effective enough to incapacitate the guards.

"We should play to our strengths," Flint argued. "Wait till late in the night watch, go in, put everyone to sleep, grab the prisoner and go. We've done it before, it's simple, it works."

"In isolated groups, yes," Priest countered. "Here we have a castle full of people inside a bigger castle full of people. We need to be precise about this. Having half the people in the castle fall over asleep is going to raise alarms."

Flint sulked over this. Every wizard, no matter how powerful, pretends to be far stronger or weaker than they actually are as a matter of course. Protective coloration as a defense against their fellow wizards.

"We can slip in through a servant's entrance," Priest continued. "Thrush and I have been in there before, we know the way up to the prisoner."

"I'm friendly with one of the servant girls who brings the guards their meals," Thrush smirked. "It won't be difficult to get her to do what we want."

"Kill the guards quietly once they're puking their guts out," Walker spoke up. "But what about the key to the cell?"

"No luck there," I said. "The castellan has one, the master-at-arms another. No one else that we've been able to find."

"We'll pick the lock then," Priest said. He didn't sound overly concerned. "Get the prisoner out to the water tower."

"Wheel Tower." I corrected. "Smiles and Grayback meet us there with the boat and we climb down with the rope. I've walked that side of the castle, the tower walls are sheer to the water. No difficulty at all getting a boat right under them."

"The Tumblestone is less heavily guarded than the Red Fork," Grayback said. "Fisherfolk keep their boats and nets close at hand, but not under guard. No worries there."

Priest nodded. "Then down the river into the waiting arms of the Company."

"Pursuit is likely," Flint said. "They'll send riders up and down the river once they realize their prize is gone. Do we trust to speed or stealth if they reach us?"

"Speed, I think," Walker said. "The faster we can reach the Company the better."

"I agree," I said. "It would take a skilled archer to hit a moving boat mid-river. Plus, we would have their prize. Would they risk his life to a stray shot?"

"Some of them might," Smiles grunted. "Better dead than free."

"They're honorable knights," Priest smirked. "Such a thing would be unknightly."

"To kill a Lannister maybe," Smiles grunted. "Don't think they would give a shit about you or me."

"Don't give much of a shit about their own when it suits them," Flint said. "Not a one of these lords got to where they are by being kind."

"But they have to think about that," I said. "Think about what's best for them, consider the best course of action. Us, we just follow orders. Simple, easy, fast."

"Like this potion," Priest shook the jug containing the bloodroot juice, grinning. "There's going to be a lot of unhappy people come morning."

"One way or the other." Smiles muttered.

Flint squinted at the sun which was starting to slide behind the trees. "It's time."

Grayback grinned and gave us the finger as he headed for the river. Smiles spat, hitched up his belt, and followed without a word.

The rest of us headed back inside the walls. As we passed through the gate one of the guards said. "Your friends will be spending the night outside if they don't hurry back."

"Who, those two?" Priest shrugged. "Fuck 'em."

The guards laughed.

We ate a filling if bland meal and rolled ourselves up in our bedrolls. Flint settled himself in the corner and shut his eyes, muttering strange words to himself under his breath.

Flint's hand shook me awake. It seemed like only a moment had passed but the moon was already rising overhead. Together we roused the others. It took only a few moments to strap on our gear and begin carefully making our way through the sleeping masses of people towards the keep.

Thrush was curled up next to the servant's entrance, seemingly asleep. He popped to his feet as we approached and swung open the door with a grin. "Potion's in the stew and the stew is upstairs," he said as he hurried us inside.

We loosened our knives in their sheaths and crept up the staircase.

We paused at the top and listened. Somewhere ahead of us came the murmur of voices and the rattle and thud of dishes and mugs.

We waited in the dark.

There was a sudden uproar. Liquid splattered on stone.

Priest slapped me on the shoulder. We charged into the anteroom. It was empty. At the door to the room beyond a man staggered out to meet us, his chin and beard streaked with bloody vomit. Priest hurled him aside and cut him down in the same motion. We spilled into the main room. Two more men writhed on the floor, moaning and clutching their bellies. A fourth panted and coughed as he clung to the table's edge. We killed them before they could shout an alarm. Priest and Flint hurried towards the door on one side of the room. The rest of us made a quick search of the room to ensure we had gotten all the guards.

Walker and Stents dragged the body out of the anteroom and stacked it with the others while Jaenor, Walker, Thrush, and I rummaged through the guards' belongings and started piling cloaks, helmets, and tabards together. A few pieces of clothing in Tully colors would be helpful as we moved about the castle. I jammed a fish crested helmet on my head and threw a cloak around my shoulders. Walker and Thrush donned blue and red tabards.

Priest made a satisfied hiss as the bolt clicked back. He and Priest hauled open the door, revealing a golden haired man leaning against the inside of the doorframe. His green eyes raked over everything: us, the overturned remains of dinner, the pile of dead men in the corner.

"This had better be important," he said. "I was having such a lovely dream."

XXX

We hurried Jaime Lannister through the castle at a pace that we hoped said 'urgent official business' rather than 'panicked flight'. We had thrown a hooded cloak over him to hide his face as best we could and gotten him to promise that he would keep quiet if we were stopped. We were, however, unsuccessful in preventing him from getting his hands on one of the guards' swords which he had strapped on and cheerfully declared that he would use to 'gut every last fish in this castle' if we were unable to make our escape.

At the north wall we slipped across the courtyard and into the tower. Flint and Priest took the lead as we climbed the spiral stairs to the top of the wall. We halted just inside the doorway as they stole out onto the battlements to fasten the ropes. We crouched in the dark, listening to the creak and rumble of the machinery below us.

"I've never been to this part of the castle before," Jaime Lannister said in a low voice. "Can't imagine why. Very scenic."

Walker turned and gave him a glare I could feel even in the dark.

Priest reappeared in the doorway. "Boats are here, move."

We hurried out onto the battlement. The moonlight made me wince, even in Tully armor a group of so many men had no business being on the wall together. Priest seemed to feel the same, he made sure Lord Lannister was first at the wall. "Boats are under the ropes. Lannister goes first, the rest of you quick as you can. Guards are not far off."

"I love a good moonlight swim." Jaime Lannister flashed him a grin as he swung over the wall and began the descent.

Thrush followed him silently.

I went down the other rope after Stents. The boat at the bottom was snugged up tight to the wall, out of the worst of the current. It was barely visible through the thick wisps of river fog that were curling up from the surface of the water. I slid down the rope as quickly as I could without burning my hands. At the bottom I stepped carefully to a rear bench and tried not to rock the boat too much as the others climbed down.

Jaenor was the last one down. His feet had hardly touched the bottom of the boat before we were casting off and swinging out into the stream. Stents and I took up oars but Smiles cut us off. "No oars. We drift for now." He steered us away from the base of the wall, the boat picking up speed as the current caught it. The mist was thicker now. I kept an oar ready to keep us off the rocks in case the current should push us into the wall.

The dim gray bulk of Riverrun dropped away on our right side. The boat rocked as our stream merged with the main current of the Red Fork. I looked back and watched the crenellated point of the walls disappear behind us like the prow of a great stone ship. I strained my ears for the sounds of shouts or trumpets behind us but Riverrun remained dark and still. The only sound was the rush and ripple of the river around us. We had escaped Riverrun and were racing down the Trident towards the Company.