Qyburn returned to his room amidst a definite disturbance. He was whistling but stopped, as a group of Steelshanks' men rushed down the stairs that led from the top floor, looking as if they couldn't get away from the building fast enough. Voices from above sounded seriously aggrieved. Qyburn waited until the men had cleared out and there was no danger of his being knocked over in the stairwell, then made his way cautiously up the steps.

A group of men gathered at the end of the landing. Steelshanks was there with two other Dreadfort men, and four men dressed in the gold armour and white cloaks of the Kingsguard. Steelshanks stood by an open door, next to one of his men, who was holding a blood-stained cloth to his nose. A Kingsguard, clean-shaven and with short blonde hair, had his hand fisted in the other Dreadfort man's shirt, pushing him up against the wall. It took Qyburn a few seconds to realise it was Ser Jaime Lannister.

The man he was holding wasn't resisting but his expression was stubborn. Ser Jaime's expression was, to put it mildly, not happy.

'I've already questioned your friend here, so if your answers differ from his by a bee's cock I shall not hesitate to throw you off this railing.'

'That won't be necessary,' the Dreadfort man said. 'He told you what 'appened, as gods' truth.'

'Now I'd like to hear it from you.'

'She jumped outta the fuckin' window. What's t' say?'

Jaime, looking frustrated, dropped his grip and stepped back abruptly so that the man stumbled. 'Why did she?'

'Cause she were spooked. She thought she didn't really wanna be here no more. She weren't used to the place, bein' common and all.'

'Why were you even in her room when she had this epiphany?'

'She invited us in for some food.'

'Your job was to stand outside her door, not partake in fine dining with her.'

'She insisted. Asked was we hungry and did we wanna eat somethin', seein' as we ain't ate nothin' since the morning, so we did.' The man sounded sulky about his lack of supper, and shuffled his boots on the stone floor.

Jaime watched him closely, like a hawk its prey. 'So she feels sorry for you two greedy lackwits, and offers you some of her food. And then... what? She says she doesn't like the general ambience and just... leaps out the window?' Jaime tilted his head, curious. 'Before either yourself or your fellow witless wonder here can stop her? You've got four feet between you, and she's got one. Pray enlighten me as to how the fuck this happened.'

'She's quick. Ser.'

'Yes, obviously. But what did she say before she jumped? Exactly.' Jaime's intent gaze didn't waver from the man's face.

'She - she said -' the man's eyes flicked to his fellow guard's, and he licked his lips. 'She said she were leaving 'cause she wanted to go back home.'

Jaime sighed. He turned away and shook his head, as if disappointed. Then he spun back on his heel with surprising speed, drew his sword, and smashed the hilt of it up into the man's face. The man sagged and fell to his knees with a breathy grunt, then slowly rolled onto his side.

'Your friend said that she left because she wanted to see the festivities. You really should try to get your stories straight.' Jaime sheathed his sword and regarded Steelshanks with coldness. 'I hold you responsible. We had an agreement that she'd be safe.'

Steelshanks didn't seem intimidated. 'I kept me side of it. Not my men's fault she thinks she can fly, is it.'

'Your men are liars, as I've just demonstrated. Bad liars at that. They'll be lucky if I allow them to see tomorrow. If you fail to find her...' Jaime left the threat unsaid. It was somehow more menacing.

'I have the rest of me men out looking for her now. They'll find her.'

'Best hope they do, or my father shall hear word of this.'

'Of what?' Steelshanks looked unrepentant. 'We lost one of our whores who was travellin with us from the North? What would Lord Tywin care of that?'

In the dim dawn light of the landing, Jaime's eyes gleamed incandescent with rage. Qyburn half-expected him to re-draw his sword and smite Steelshanks' head off with one stroke. When the Kingslayer spoke it was clear he was holding his fury in check only with great difficulty. 'I would not press me to take my issues with you to my father. He may hear many things from my mouth. You may find yourself accused of offences that will prevent you from ever returning to your precious North, or anywhere else, outside of our deepest dungeon.'

'I was paid gold to take the girl to this room last night an' leave guards by the door,' Steelshanks muttered. 'Which I done.'

'Gold you have not yet received. And nor will you, not one coin, if she isn't found.' Jaime's whole being simmered with pent-up aggression.

Steelshanks clenched his jaw, but was smart enough to say nothing more that could fan the Kingslayer's already volatile mood. Instead, he just nodded stiffly.

Jaime gestured to the other members of the Kingsguard who stood nearby, addressing them in a tone that brooked no argument.

'I want this girl located immediately. I owe her a debt that is yet unpaid, and her safety is compromised by the crowds gathered here for the King's wedding. I know you all have many important duties today, but for the next hour I want you three helping the Dreadfort men search. Ask everyone, look everywhere. It's of the utmost urgency.'

'What's she look like?' one of the Kingsguard wanted to know.

'Septa left a dress here last night, green with white pattern. She'll be wearing that.'

The man standing besides Steelshanks made a sound for the first time, snuffling through the cloth held to his nose. Qyburn realised he was laughing. 'You'll recognise her when you see her,' the man snorted wetly. 'Trust me, you'll recognise the bitch.'

'What's that mean?' the Kingsguard man asked.

'Just go find her!' Jaime seethed. His tightly-held restraint finally shattered, he turned to the man next to Steelshanks and grabbed him by the collar. The man swung a punch, but Jaime ducked, then dragged him forward and hurled him with sickening force into the side of the railing. The railing thrummed with the impact and the man almost tipped over it before rebounding back and onto the floor. He left a slick trail of blood shining along the balustrade in his wake.

The men of the Kingsguard, obviously deciding under the circumstances it was wisest not to linger, hurried past Qyburn without pause. Only one, a man with a curved nose and pointed beard who Qyburn knew as Kettleblack, glanced his way, and held eye-contact for an unsettling moment. Qyburn looked down and studied the floor, as if he could decipher clues from it.

Jaime came last, and despite ignoring the Maester's presence up until this point, he now stopped and fixed him with a harsh stare. Qyburn felt as if the slightest misstep on his part may result in his being grievously hurt in some manner, so he kept his features arranged into what he hoped conveyed a meek yet convincing concern.

'Where have you been?' Jaime narrowed his eyes. 'Your room is directly below this one. When we searched the rooms just before, you were absent.'

'I had to see someone, about my possible work here.'

'At this early hour? The sun has barely risen. Were you abed when the girl supposedly leapt from her window?'

'Yes, I was. Fast asleep. I recall waking at a thump on my balcony. But by the time I had got out of bed and gone to the door leading out, there was no-one there.'

'So you're saying the Dreadfort men speak the truth on this? She did jump?'

'I would rather not speculate on their honesty, Ser. But it certainly sounded as though something landed on my balcony, earlier. It was loud enough to wake me, although I do tend to light sleeping more often than not these days. My age, you see. Slumber is not as deep nor refreshing as it once was, when I was younger.' At the increasing impatience on Jaime's face, Qyburn hastily re-focused. 'I thought something may have fallen from above, a heavy pot or similar. But as I said,' he shrugged with regret,' upon inspection of the balcony, there was nothing.'

Jaime slumped back against the stairwell. He ran a hand across his face and his expression changed suddenly from belligerence to defeat. 'Gods, Qyburn. Where could she be? She can't get far, she's a damn cripple. All of Steelshanks' men are out searching around the fort again, but I've already looked thoroughly myself. There's nowhere to hide there. You're a man of wisdom, what's your wise advice? Because,' he laughed despairingly, 'I could dearly use some right now.'

Qyburn sensed the desperation in Jaime's words, but desperation could switch back to anger in a heartbeat, he knew. So he took some time to consider his careful response. 'Could she be mixed with the wedding guests? There seem to be quite a large number about.'

'No, the Dornish would know a stranger among them, and none I've talked to so far have seen her.'

'Then perhaps she has left the Keep entirely.'

'The guards at the gates have told me no-one left from any of the gates during the night. I have them alerted now, so if she does try to leave one of them will get word to me.'

'It seems as if you are doing everything possible. In that case,' Qyburn smiled gently, 'she must turn up somewhere, before long. The girl is used to looking after herself, is she not? The Red Keep is no more dangerous than the open road.'

Jaime frowned. 'You have little knowledge of the Red Keep, I see.' He pushed off the wall, his face once more composed. His eyes hard. 'If you see the girl, or hear anything of her whereabouts, make sure to inform me immediately. Only me, no one else.'

'Of course, Ser,' Qyburn said, bowing his head.

Jaime strode past and on down the stairs, his boots clattering on the stone. Qyburn waited for Steelshanks, who was unceremoniously heaving his two guardsmen to their feet. Neither looked to be in good shape, their gaits unsteady and their faces misshapen and blood-spattered.

'It's as you predicted,' Qyburn said, as they approached. 'The Kingslayer's paramour has indeed caused trouble for us.'

'Yeah. Not that these two and their cocks helped any.' Steelshanks shoved his men towards the stairs, and Qyburn followed them down.

'Where have they looked for her?'

'Around the fort. In all the rooms. Out askin' questions of the Dornish. If she's wanderin' round someone's gotta have seen her. There's fuckin' hundreds of them out there.'

'And yet she is not found.'

'No, and she better hope I ain't the one to find her,' Steelshanks growled. 'I'll wring her troublemakin' little neck.'

'Seeing what she will say of your men when she's found, it may be best if she never was,' Qyburn suggested slyly, as they reached the ground floor.

Steelshanks glared at him with suspicion. 'I still have gold to collect. I don't need the Kingslayer havin' an excuse not to pay up.'

'You said so yourself, Lord Tywin will pay that gold. What will he care about a missing commoner from the Dreadfort? Roose has already sent word, informed Tywin that you were Jaime's escort. You got him home safe, therefore the gold is owed. Even Ser Jaime's golden tongue can't spin a convincing enough tale to fool his father any different. You'll get your gold.'

'And the girl?'

'She's a common lass, they are, by definition, common.' An odd, high-pitched chuckle escaped from Qyburn's lips, before he could stop it. 'Does it matter what happens to one?' He rubbed his palms together over and over, enjoying the dry hiss of his skin on itself.

'You seem to know more than you're lettin' on, old man.'

The Maester didn't answer, just smiled ingratiatingly.

It had the opposite effect. Steelshanks continued to glare at him with undisguised distaste. 'There's something really wrong with you, Qyburn. You give me the fuckin' creeps. But, I hope you're right. As long as I get me gold out of this deal, I'll be leavin' tomorrow, before the whole wedding circus. And I won't never have to set eyes on your smarmy ol' face again, long as I live.' The Dreadfort soldier suppressed a shudder as he firmly guided his two injured men along the path to their rooms. He didn't look back.

Qyburn watched them go. You mock me, Steelshanks Walton. Underestimate me, as many have done in the past. But no matter. What would a simple soldier like yourself know of the sciences, of the dark arts, of exploring the greater mysteries of life itself? You would never understand, and so my explanations would be wasted on you.

He could feel the morning sun warm on the pate of his head, and around him people strolled and shouted, laughed and milled about. But Qyburn didn't bother to look and see if Jaime's missing girl was amongst them.

He cast his mind back, to a few hours earlier. The Queen had been reluctant to see him before the sun was even risen, but he'd insisted to the guard outside her chambers that it was very important and couldn't wait. He remembered with pleasure how the Queen's initial hostility had quickly become interest as he'd begun to explain, and finally a sad comprehension had dawned in her green eyes, as if something she hadn't understood before now made sense. Although he could see the news he brought pained her sorely, she had in the end been most grateful for his help.

When the Queen had passed him over the key to the small store-room hidden below the Kitchen Keep, her beautiful face had softened.

'You have done the right thing by coming to me, Maester. I can trust you to keep this a secret from anyone else, until I can think how best to deal with this? It would benefit neither of us, but especially not you, if my brother were to find out of your visit.'

'Of course, Your Grace,' Qyburn had said.

Discretion was certainly in his own best interests. And the Queen's gratitude would be useful when it came time to suggest his own solution to her problem. But let her concentrate first on the King's wedding. She has a lot on her mind, at this busy time, he'd thought, as he left her room with the key hidden in the folds of his cloak.

Now it was done, and surprisingly easily. Kettleblack had come along at the Queen's command and helped escort them from Qyburn's room, his Kingsguard whites lending authenticity to their story. In the pre-dawn darkness, wrapped in Qyburn's old cloak, they were inconspicuous. And no-one had been around to see. Kettleblack and Qyburn had moved some storage things to make a small bed along one bench, and there were a few sacks in there for blankets.

She hadn't seemed to mind the sparse accommodation. But her type was used to that.

'When will Jaime come to get me?' was all that she cared about.

'Soon,' Qyburn had promised.

'I'm not going back to that room again, with those fuckers around,' she'd scowled. Her arm was smeared with rust from where she'd slid against the balcony rail as she'd fallen, her elbow was grazed, and her green dress had mud on the hem from walking through the Keep, but otherwise she looked lively. One thing about commoners, they are resilient. Kettleblack certainly couldn't keep his eyes off her. He'd had a glazed look about him from the minute he'd seen her, and his mouth hung open a little whenever she moved.

'You don't have to go back there, my dear girl,' Qyburn had assured, with his sincerest smile, the one he knew wrinkled the corners of his kind brown eyes. 'You were lucky I was awake, to let you into my room. Those men can't get you in here.' True to his word, he had locked the iron-fortified door securely behind him as he left.

Remembering it now, the old Maester felt a glow of contentment inside his bones. The store-room had walls six inches thick, and not a single window. He'd been informed it was sound-proof.

As he retired to his own room, Qyburn resumed his whistling. No, the Queen's little problem won't be going anywhere. Not ever again.

A.N: After a brief hiatus, I'm hopefully back to my more regular updating schedule. Thanks for bearing with me the last two weeks. I will dedicate this chapter to Hermitt because she is so madly enthusiastic in her reviews it makes me laugh every time I read them.