The Sunflowers were preparing for their parting show in Rosby. Tomorrow, both they and Alarra were to head back to King's Landing.
The Royal Penance was a success – now, after so many performances, Alarra could admit it freely. Even though she hadn't really participated in the production, apart from watching the rehearsals and playing the Maiden that one time, she couldn't help but feel weirdly proud.
If Myribeth was proud too, though, she hid it extremely well. Alarra was sitting at the second-to-last rehearsal, and from the way Myribeth was yelling, one could think the play was to be shown for the very first time with Maegor the Cruel in attendance.
"Maridan!" she shouted at the stout olive-skinned Dornishman who played the Smith in the second act but was one of the courtiers in the first. "How many times do I have to tell you to adjust the doublet? Your Smith garb is showing, again, blast you! Brennan, don't shuffle your legs and comb your hair, you're looking like a wet dandelion! Tylar, have you mended your cape? Brennan, careful, you fool!" trying to comb his hair while already in costume, Brennan accidentally pushed the wooden "king's crown" off his hand. It rolled away from the makeshift wooden stage and into the spring grass – and the spring dirt.
Myribeth looked like she would explode with fury, so Alarra quickly picked up the crown and stealthily wiped it with her shawl.
"No harm done, Mistress Myribeth!" she said, throwing it back to Brennan.
"Thank you, Lady Stark," Brennan bowed with a grateful smile.
The outrage was avoided, but Myribeth's temper in general was not quelled. As the rehearsal went on, the only ones she was somewhat mild towards were, as usually, Garris, Ellara, and, oddly, Caleotte. That was rather a mystery to Alarra: with Garris she could understand – it would be unseemly to yell at such an elderly man, not to mention that he pulled off all the necessary lines and gestures with seemingly effortless ease, and with Ellara it was understandable too – the poor woman was treated with pity and sympathy by the entire troupe.
But what was the deal with Caleotte? The golden-haired man was the pillar of health and strength, but Alarra had always observed Myribeth treating him with that strange gentleness. He was also extremely reclusive, retiring to the Sunflowers' cart after every performance, even though many hopeful servant girls kept trying to make his acquaintance.
Perhaps he is her lover or even husband, Alarra thought as Myribeth calmly told Caleotte to wipe off a smudge of dirt from the wooden "armor" of the Warrior – if Brennan had something like that on his stage clothes, she would have certainly screamed at him until her throat was sore. That's why she's so nice with him and why he doesn't dally with servant girls.
The rehearsal wrapped up as Garris placed a crown on Garnet's head to thunderous triumphant music.
"Passable," Myribeth grunted. "Meeting in two hours for the last one. Do try and make some effort."
Most of the mummers headed towards the cart or the servants' quarters to rest, but Brennan turned towards the less crowded parts of the gardens, and Garnet, though she went with Obella to the cart, said:
"Mother, there's a fair in the town today. Can I go there after the next rehearsal?"
"No, dear, you shouldn't leave the keep alone," Obella said.
"But, Mother, it's Rosby, it's safe here..."
"It's all right, Bel," Garris interfered. "Garnet, I'll go with you."
"Oh, Uncle, thank you!" the girl's face lit up at once.
"But in that case, we'll go right now. In the next break, I'll be preparing for the show, and I advise you to do the same."
"I'll just get changed!" Garnet cried happily and darted to the cart. Obella chewed on her lip:
"In the town... not everyone knows we are under royal protection."
"Bel, don't worry. Garnet is a careful girl, and I'm not letting her out of my sight, either."
"I don't want her wandering around. It would be much better for her to keep to the safe places."
"She would just sneak off like poor Ellara did," Garris said softly. "She is a growing girl who wants ribbons and trinkets and whatever else girls dream of at her age – and she will pay for them with the coin she has earned. Come on, even Myrie isn't trying to lock Brennan up."
Garnet climbed out of the cart, clad in a simple shirt and breeches and carrying a small leather pouch.
"I'm ready!" she announced. Giving her mother a quick hug (a rather strained one, by the look of it), she walked with Garris towards the castle gate. Obella stared after them, bitterness clear in her face.
Why wouldn't she go with them? Alarra wondered. If she wants to bond with her daughter and if she is afraid for her, it would make a lot more sense for her to accompany them to the fair. My mother, more often than not, went with me when I wished to visit the winter town.
She smiled sadly at the memories. When Mother passed away, Alarra was only seven, but she remembered well how the two of them had played at chase in the winter town's streets, or visited the toymaker's workshop where Mother helped her pick the toys she liked, or bought seaberry jam from the street vendors that left yellow stains on their fingers and lips. Alarra even had some vague recollections of Mother giving her piggyback rides or throwing her high in the air when she was very little – Jonelle Mormont had been a warrior and no weaker than many men.
The pain of the loss had eased after six years, and Alarra loved Alysanne, but she would never call the latter Mother except when it was demanded by the courtly ceremonies. She had her one and only Mother, and nobody could replace her, not truly.
"Honeycombs, this year's first! The finest honeycombs from the Reach!"
"Oatmeal biscuits with dried fruits! Prepared in my family since the times of the First Men!"
"Berry preserves, the best berry preserves in the crownlands!"
Garnet looked around the fair's food stalls with delight. It wasn't often that she could indulge in sweetmeats – indeed, on the road, the Sunflowers sometimes couldn't even eat enough to feel full. Now, Uncle Garris told her, there was a chance they would settle down in King's Landing for good, which would mean better food and better wages, but the more cautious Myribeth said they couldn't yet get their hopes up. In case they had to travel again, Garnet intended to enjoy herself during the last day in Rosby, and the fair couldn't have taken place at a more fitting time.
She turned towards the elderly seller who offered the oatmeal biscuits.
"How many for you, dear?" the seller smiled – talking just a bit louder and slower than she did to everyone else, clearly in case Garnet didn't speak the Common Tongue.
"Three, if you please, good lady," Garnet said, handing her three coppers from her pouch. "Uncle Garris?"
"I'll have one, thank you," he said, adding a coin of his own.
"There you go, dears," the seller gave them a plate with the four large biscuits. "Visiting from Dorne?"
"No, we are with a mummers' troupe, the Sunflowers," Uncle said. "I was born on the Greenblood, though."
"Green... blood?" the seller repeated with a wince. "Was it some kind of fight?"
"Oh, no, good woman, it's a sacred river in Dorne," he explained.
The seller didn't voice any opinion, but Garnet could see the superior look in her eyes. The Rhoynish faith was something mostly viewed with disdain in the Kingdoms, much more so than the Northmen's ridiculous (she wasn't going to say that openly in the earshot of Lady Alarra or Lord Stark, of course) worshiping of trees.
"Must be quite cold for you around here," the baker said instead. Garnet hated such talk, when people spoke up only to fill up the awkward pauses. She nibbled on her biscuit vigorously to show that she wasn't interested in replying to this.
"Oh, not as much as many others think," Uncle chuckled. "For all that I miss my birthplace, it had always been way too hot for my taste."
At least he has a birthplace to miss, Garnet thought sadly as she bought a jug of milk from one of the neighboring stalls (Uncle forbade her to leave his sight, probably instructed by Mother). She was born in the Sunflowers' cart while it was making its way from Cider Hall to Ashford, and in all her eleven years, the cart was the only permanent home she had known. When she was four, she made her first appearance in a play (as a little wildling girl that a brave ranger of the Watch saves from the Others) and had been playing ever since.
Oh, how tired of it she was! She hated, hated, hated making a fool of herself in front of all the snobbish lords and rude commoners who'd forget her the following day. There were so many other things one could do! She was a good enough seamstress, having mended clothes since she was old enough to hold a needle, and Uncle taught her to cook, and she knew how to catch fish and set snares for hares. Or she could go to Uncle's native Greenblood and row boats down its stream. Anything would be better than acting.
The one problem, though, was that as much as Garnet detested the mummers' job, she didn't want to leave the Sunflowers. In a small cart like theirs, there was never any question of different households – everyone lived as a single family. True, many had quit in Garnet's lifetime, and rarely did anyone bear them a grudge – a traveling mummer's life is hardly the easiest one, and numerous young people joined them only to save up enough to get married or buy a scrap of land. But there was the unspoken rule: as long as you did stay with the Sunflowers, every other troupe member was like your flesh and blood. And unlike those young people who quit so often, Garnet had been with the Sunflowers all her life.
It wasn't just Uncle Garris and Mother – everyone else was dear to her too. She couldn't imagine living in some house all by herself or even with a husband, but without the troupe by her side.
I do hope we manage to stay in King's Landing, she thought dreamily. This way, I'll both have a permanent home and won't get parted from Uncle Garris and Mother and everybody.
Alarra came across Brennan when she was strolling across the gardens herself, planning to find another quiet spot for a bit of private devotion. Ever since Ella told her about Ser Mandon leaving, she had been praying for him daily, and she also wanted to pray for Mother after remembering her so vividly today.
In one of such quiet spots – on the bank of a small pond – there was Brennan, staring absentmindedly at the several brown ducks swimming around in the water.
"My lady," he hurriedly stood up and bowed when he noticed her.
"I'm sorry Myribeth gave you such a rough time today," Alarra said.
"It's all right, my lady. Aunt Myrie has a lot on her hands. I'm... used to it. And I know I'm a lousy actor."
Alarra wanted to politely assure him it wasn't true, but, unfortunately, it very obviously was. Apart from his trouble with memorizing lines, Brennan never really got the hang of a mummer's play – most of the time on stage, he was either overly wooden or unnaturally exuberant.
"Why don't you leave, then?" she asked instead.
"Leave?" he repeated. "I mean... my lady, Aunt Myrie has cared for me like for her own child, and I must not – I won't – abandon her to her troubles."
"But the troubles may well be over after you settle down in King's Landing," Alarra reminded him.
"Yes, that's what Garnet keeps saying too – she's not fond of mummery either... My lady."
"In the capital, you'll be able to get an apprenticeship at a craftsman's or as a cook at some inn or whatever you want."
"Can I speak my mind, my lady?" Brennan asked carefully. Feeling herself quite grown and important like Alysanne at her women's courts, Alarra nodded:
"Of course."
"I want to go to sea," he said with a wistful smile. "We've met some sailors who came to watch our plays, and I've always been so sad I couldn't join their crews. I want to steer ships and to shorten sails and to fight the ironborn. It's strange... I've never been on a real ship since my mother traveled to Westeros. I was one and a half years old then."
Alarra was a bit sad he came to the Seven Kingdoms so early in his life – she would have loved to ask him about what it was like in Lys... then again, as a slave's son he would have hardly told her much good about the city.
"The moment I know Aunt Myrie's safe and provided for, I'll go to the port," Brennan continued. "I only know what to do with ships by hearsay, but I'll learn. I know I'll learn."
"Will you visit Essos again?"
He shrugged with an air of indifference:
"Mayhaps, my lady. I will even be glad to be on some small cog that only goes back and forth between King's Landing and Pentos. It's the sea I really want, not the lands."
She wondered whether he spoke the truth or didn't want to be too hopeful.
Ellara, Brennan and Garnet... now I know three of them who'd prefer to leave mummery behind, she thought. Why? It's a hard life, of course, but no harder than, say, growing wheat, especially for Northern peasants.
Though Ellara, from what Alarra could understand, was mostly angry with the constant wandering rather than with the work itself (sadly, not that she was much better at it than Brennan). But what was the deal with Garnet? Alarra didn't want to ask Brennan about it – it felt a bit dishonest, talking of such matters behind the girl's back. Probably it would be best to invite Garnet to one of the women's courts... however, Myribeth didn't seem to feel at home at them, so who knew if Garnet would be happy to attend?
"I can talk to the captains in King's Landing – they can let you do some jobs at the docked ships: help with the cleaning, or with the loading, or with fixing things. Just so that you can train for the future."
"Thank you, my lady, but I don't think Aunt Myrie would approve," Brennan shook his head. "She wants me to become a mummer – she thinks my skills will get better. When I get a real job on a ship, I'll tell her, but if she finds anything out earlier..." he sighed. "She has too much to deal with already."
It was odd – the commoners had no need for dynasties and succession, and yet they still trained their children to be their heirs. Alarra had seen it often – she had met many smiths, or woodworkers, or shipwrights whose job had been passed from father to son for many generations (one stonemason from Deepwood Motte insisted he inherited his skills, tools and shop from his giantess distant ancestor who lived before the First Men). But usually, the oldest children in such families were content with their lot and prepared to take over their fathers' (or mothers') profession since beginning to walk and talk.
Or maybe I simply hadn't talked with them about it? Alarra corrected herself.
Brennan's dislike of mummery could be explained by the fact that he wasn't really related to Myribeth, but Garnet was Obella's own daughter and shared that dislike.
Maybe her Rhoynish faith forbids acting on the stage? But Garris also believes in the Rhoyne...
Alarra recalled her own thrill mixed with fear when she stepped in to play the Maiden, even though there wasn't anyone in the audience except her family and Lady Darke. Perhaps some mummers simply felt more of the fear than the thrill.
"Aunt Myrie is always sad when someone leaves, my lady," Brennan said thoughtfully in the meantime. "The Sunflowers mean so much to her..."
More than her own foster son's happiness? Alarra scoffed inwardly. The one definite upside to being lowborn was being more free with what to do in your life. Certainly, you needed a bit of coin to move to a new place or master a new craft, but nobody would tell you anything like "There must always be a son of mine in the bakery." It seemed that Myribeth, though, wanted to block that freedom.
"With the Sunflowers and the Little Dragons put together, she'll have an enormous troupe to manage," she said. "Even if someone leaves, it won't be any big loss for the plays."
"I hope so, my lady," Brennan murmured, not looking confident in the least.
Feeling he wished to be alone, she quietly walked away.
If only Myribeth and the rest of them talked to each other about what they really wished, she mused, their lives would have been a great deal easier.