Chapter 3

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Syrio looked pleased with Cat's display of skill. "Yes, you move well, Girl."

Cat grinned as her sword cut through the air, "Ready to show these dock rats some real swordplay?"

oOoOo

The Docks, Kings Landing

Cat grimaced as the smell of Kings Landings assaulted her nose, "This place stinks!"

Syrio nodded, "Indeed it does, but I suspect that we shall grow used to it if we stay."

The "we" made Cat smile.

She and Syrio had developed a tentative friendship aboard the ship and in the days since that saw Syrio suggest that Cat join him as a swordmaster for hire. "Although not many of these Westerosi openly train their daughters, there are some with sense enough to see their daughters protected."

"I'm more worried that someone will think me a bloody Targaryen and force me to run them through," complained Cat as a well-dressed passer-by stared openly at her. Turning to look at Syrio she smiled grimly, "Maybe Dorne or the North would be better prospects. Dorne has a reputation for tolerance, and I've heard that northerners hold to more common-sense beliefs."

Syrio frowned as he studied the crowd. While Braavos had its share of poverty, Kings Landing was far worse. Cat could see that the former First Sword was just as disgusted as she had been when she first experienced the squalid conditions.

"Come on, let's find this merchant and see if he has received any word yet," suggested Syrio.

The merchant in question, a Tollet by name, arranged many things, tutors, instructors and other skilled trades. The bastard of a wealthy merchant and a Braavosi tavern maid, he had been recommended by a friend of Syrio.

As they entered Tollet's shop, Cat froze at the sight of two men dressed in black…men of the Night's Watch. The older of the two was someone she knew. Yoren the wandering Crow. He looked much the same as Arya remembered, grizzled and tough-looking in his faded black clothes. The other was a younger man with a scraggly blonde beard.

Tollet waved Syrio and Cat to a bench, "I'll be with you in a moment. I am just finishing up with these…gentlemen."

"Ere now, we were doing business," said the younger Black Brother indignantly.

Tollet frowned as his eyes narrowed.

Sensing an upcoming outburst, Cat waved her hand toward the two men. "We can wait. See to the needs of Night's Watch."

Yoren looked surprised for a moment before turning back to the Merchant. "Lord Commander Mormont is willing to pay a fair price for a good engineer."

Tollet frowned, considering. "Few would wish to take your vows."

Yoren shook his head, "We'd love a new Brother with the skills we need. But we're offering payment…the lifts on the wall and our gates need repair. Our master builder says we need an engineer to fix it."

Tollet picked up a large leather-bound book and looked over several pages. "I have a military engineer…but Santos is usually not looking for this type of work."

Syrio cleared his throat, "Santos Canetti? He is a Braavosi mercenary, and I know him well. He is a man that loves his machines but given his advancing age, no longer seeks out war. I would think he would welcome the challenge."

Tollet frowned thoughtfully and made a non-committal noise before looking at Yoren. "I suppose that there is no harm in asking. Will you be in the city for long?"

Yoren grunted as he nodded, "Aye, I'm waiting for word from the King's justice before we make our offers. Then we'll need to resupply before heading north."

"That should work, I believe that Santos is still in the city," agreed Tollet without a great deal of enthusiasm. He was still clearly not pleased to be dealing with the two black brothers.

With their business done the two men left.

"Excuse me for a moment," Cat muttered to Syrio, who raised an eyebrow but made no move to stop her.

Once outside, she quickly spotted the two men and hurried after them. She closed the distance quickly and cleared her throat, loudly.

Yoren spun around, hand on his sword hilt. His younger comrade stumbled in surprise as he turned.

"What do you want girl?" Yoren demanded as he glared suspiciously at Cat.

"I had a question about the North," explained Cat.

"Why would you want to know about the north?" Yoren demanded.

"The man with me, he's a Braavosi swordmaster. We are looking for work and we have heard that the North might be a good place to consider."

"You his woman?" Yoren asked, examining her closely. "And can you use that pig sticker?"

Cat rolled her eyes, "I'm his friend, not his lady friend and yes, I can. Want me to stick you like a pig?"

Yoren's eyes crinkled slightly as the corners of his mouth turned upward for the briefest of moments. "No need for that, girl. Some of the northern houses train their women to fight. Try Bear Island or Winterfell…although most have good Masters of arms."

Cat grinned and offered a Braavosi salute, "My thanks, I think I will. I'd welcome somewhere that has fewer issues with women that can fight. This bloody place stinks and there are a few too many eyes…if you get my drift."

Yoren shrugged, "Here, I'd say your looks stand out. The north will be the same, but most won't care." He paused for a moment, "Was your friend speaking true about the engineer?"

Cat nodded, "He probably is, being the former First sword of Braavos means he knows a lot of people."

When she returned, Syrio had finished with Tollet. He gestured, and Cat nodded before falling into step beside him.

"Anything?"

Syrio shook his head, "For me, perhaps, but for us…Kings Landing appears to be a…difficult place to find work. Tollet claims that it may be many months."

"You should take work if you can get it. I have some money set aside…" began Cat.

Syrio shook his head and held a hand up, "I too have some money. It's not just the work it's the challenge and besides," his voice became sly. "You girl are an interesting companion."

Cat laughed as they entered a small tavern. It was one of the better ones that served the merchants and skilled tradesmen, "Then what shall we decide, north or south?"

Syrio's smile faded slightly, "Perhaps we should talk first, yes."

He led her to a clean but rickety table near the wall. They both sat and Syrio frowned, "Before we make plans we must talk."

Cat forced her expression to remain neutral and she nodded.

Syrio relaxed slightly but Cat knew his hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Keeping his voice low, Syrio leaned in. "Are you a faceless man?"

"Not anymore, but I share their skills," explained Cat truthfully.

Syrio studied her face, finishing by staring into her eyes. "And your purpose?"

"Dark times are coming, and I have a duty to help prevent a disaster," she was amazed and relieved to see Syrio slowly nod.

"Ah…so this is duty, well do I understand the twin duties of men, Valar Dohaeris and Valar Morghulis but the servants of the house of black and white have their own ways. I was the first sword, chosen by the Sealord of Braavos because I was the most observant of the bravos. The ablest to protect the Sealord from threats seen and unseen. I trust my own eyes. I watch and learn. So yes, I believe that I can trust you, but I would ask that you warn me should I need to seek a haven."

Cat nodded, "You have my word that I mean you no harm and I will stand with you, my friend."

Syrio considered her for a moment before clearing his throat, "Good, now girl we must decide our course. White Harbour is the northernmost port I know of…"

Cat smiled and sat back letting Syrio put forth his suggestions.

oOoOo

Winterfell

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North sat quietly, brooding as he tried to rein in his anger and fear.

"Jory?"

The Captain of his Household guard, Jory Cassel was almost shaking with anger, unsurprising given the situation. Nevertheless, he gathered his wits, "My Lord?"

"Take ten men to join the Great Jon's and hunt down the rest of the scum. They'll pay for their crimes," ordered Eddard with a grim expression.

Jory nodded, "Yes, My Lord." He then hesitated, "Is the little Lady alright, and the girl?"

Eddard grimaced even as he nodded, "Maester Luwin is seeing to their injuries. Arya has been stitched and the girl…she has survived her ordeal and the Maester has seen to it that there will be no child."

Jory straightened, "It's my fault, my Lord. My men should have…" He trailed off as Lord Stark gestured for silence.

"No Jory, you are not to blame. Arya snuck out of the castle to follow Robb and Theon, at night, despite knowing she was not to leave the keep. And, despite her bravery, she nearly died defending the poor lass." Eddard cursed silently as he considered what might have happened if the Greatjon's men had not been in a nearby tavern. "I'll not see you or her punished further."

Jory took his leave and Eddard sat back in his chair.

It had been a near thing. Arya, all of eight namedays old, had interrupted and attempted to stop the gang rape of a serving girl by stabbing one of the assailants with her belt knife before trying to hold off two other thugs by herself until a third stabbed her from behind. Somehow, she managed to cut him badly enough to drive him back just as some of the Greatjon's men arrived to investigate the noise, unwittingly chasing the men off.

His daughter had nearly died, bleeding out in the snow…doing her duty…he looked down and found his fists clenched. If an elderly whore had not known somewhat of treating wounds she would have died before reaching Maester Luwin.

"Father?"

Eddard looked up to see Robb and Jon at his solar door.

Jon was pale and worried while Robb looked like he was going to be ill. "She was following me…if Theon and I hadn't…."

"You are not to blame Robb. Although I am less than pleased with your choice of…pursuits. We will speak on it later." Eddard said as he stood. "But first I want to speak with Maester Luwin."

There was a polite throat-clearing from the doorway, "I am here my lord." Announced Maester Luwin as he entered drying his hands on a clean cloth.

"Arya?" asked Eddard.

Luwin smiled tiredly, "Still unconscious, but resting more easily after I gave her milk of the poppy. I believe that she will live my Lord."

Eddard, Robb and Jon all relaxed slightly.

Arya would live. His brave girl would live.

Luwin sighed and continued, "The wound in her back is deep and came close to her spine although I believe that the blade hit her rib, breaking it but stopping it going deeper. A grievous wound for a young girl. But she will live. Alas, the cut near her eye…I think it will scar, My Lord. Not badly, and such scars often fade but she will likely carry it for life."

Eddard felt a wave of relief mixed with sorrow. "No doubt she will be proud of it. Thank you Luwin. I will check on her shortly."

He caught sight of Robb's grimace as he stood. His son knew there would be punishment for his illicit drinking and whoring but looked relieved that his sister would be well.

oOoOO

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the wall in the room where his daughter slept. He had just left, needing to visit the privy, when he heard footsteps.

"NED!"

Eddard rose just as the Greatjon hurried around the corner followed by Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's Master-at-Arms.

"Jon?"

"We caught the rest of the raping bastards, they were making a run south," boomed the Greatjon with a vicious smile. He paused and grew serious, "Your girl?"

"She will recover," replied Eddard. "I must send word to Torren's Square. Lady Stark will want to know what has occurred."

"She may not be of the North, Ned. But she should be proud. The little lady is a true bloody Stark. Eight name days and she held off three of the bastards with a fucking belt knife. Ha, I bet if she'd had a sword they could have sat back and watched as she gelded them."

oOoOo

Catelyn Stark adjusted her heavy fur cloak and turned in her saddle to look at Sansa who rode beside her. "Nearly home, my sweet."

Sansa smiled sweetly, "It's a lovely day, Mother. Besides, it was worth the ride to see Torren's Square. I was amazed at how different it was to home and Lady Eddara was very nice."

Catelyn smiled, "The Tallharts are good bannermen. Perhaps when Eddara is older she might come to foster at Winterfell for a while."

Sansa beamed at her mother, "That would be lovely Mother, then Arya can go foster somewhere else!"

"Sansa!" exclaimed Catelyn sharply. "Arya is your sister."

"I'd rather…" Sansa wilted slightly as she took in her mother's look of censure.

"My Lady, two riders' approaching from the rear," called out the head of her escort.

Catelyn turned to look where her husband's men were moving to the rear, readying weapons. Catelyn moved her horse closer to Sansa who had yet to realise their potential peril.

The senior guard, Rodden, urged his mount back down the road and called out a challenge. A few moments later he appeared to relax. Then rode back.

"Messengers from Torren's Square, My Lady."

'Torren's Square,' thought Catelyn with a frown. 'I wonder what they are about?'

The two riders were younger men wearing the colours of House Tallhart.

"Lady Stark, we received two ravens from Winterfell. Ser Helman sent us to bring the messages to you."

"Two Ravens?" she gestured, and two message scrolls were placed into her hand. They were both sealed with her husband's seal. Worried now, she broke the seal on the first and read the short message. Her hand went to her mouth before she gathered her wits and broke open the second message.

Sansa looked worriedly at her mother, "Mother, what is wrong?"

Catelyn composed herself, "Your sister has been gravely injured. Rodden, we must increase our pace. How soon can we be back in Winterfell?"

Rodden considered, "If we push on to the inn at the crossroad and eat, change horses and rest a few hours…we could make Winterfell by tomorrow afternoon."

"Then that is what we will do," ordered Catelyn.

oOoOo

Three days later, when Arya finally woke, it was to the sight of her mother sitting beside her.

oOoOo

"Ned…we almost lost her, and you are even considering this…this madness!"

"Like my brother and sister, Arya has more than a touch of wolf blood. I would have none of my children fight, but that is not the world we live in. So, if they wish, I will see them all trained."

"Ned…" Catelyn began but trailed off before trying again. Choosing her words carefully and with none of her previous ire "Ned, this will not be well received in the south. Lords are not looking for ladies that can wield a blade."

Ned's expression softened slightly. While too young for betrothals, they had both been considering possible ties with southern houses. "Cat, if this turns betrothals away then there are good men of the north that will welcome a lady who can defend herself. Maege Mormont and her girls have never had anything but the respect of their peers."

Catelyn sighed, acknowledging that the Mormonts were well respected, "Arya will jump at the chance, but I don't think Sansa will wish such unladylike pursuits." She could see that her husband was decided. "Will Arya train with the boys? Surely, she is not yet strong enough even to swing a wooden sword."

"But she will have the opportunity," said Ned firmly. "Despite her size, she is quick and fearless. I may have to see if a swordmaster can be lured north. There are other sword styles…I have seen Braavosi swordmasters that use light blades. They are deadly, fast fighters. Such a style may suit Arya and perhaps Sansa."

oOoOo

White Harbour

Syrio adjusted his newly purchased fur cloak, much to Cat's amusement. "This is just a taste of the North, Syrio."

Syrio shrugged, "I'll admit it's cold and I'll enjoy a warm room tonight." He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "You seem to be fine."

Cat laughed, her eyes dancing. "The secret is to wear layers."

Syrio grunted and adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder, "And where can we find this man?"

Cat shrugged and looked around, "Don't know, I've never been here before. Soon as I see a guard, I will ask. We should keep an eye out for a decent inn."

They followed the crowds that made their way from the docks as the sun lowered in the sky. As they approached the inner wall, the crowd slowed as guards in Manderly colours looked over the travellers. They were not stopped, but Cat could feel the eyes taking in her appearance. Once more she sent a silent complaint to the Many-Faced God regarding his choice of faces. Although now she considered she could have changed her face before creating this persona. Still, they were soon within the walls and here the wind was blocked and there was little snow on the cobbled streets. Even as darkness fell, there were people moving around and many taverns and inns lined the street. White Harbour deserved to be known as the one true city in the North.

They were interrupted by yelling and the clash of weapons. Manderly men were converging on a building, with weapons drawn. Then there were horses in the street as riders appeared, scattering the people on the street, adding to the chaos.

Cat looked around, trying to work out what was happening.

She stepped aside as a guard charged past her, only to stagger and fall with an arrow in his shoulder. Cursing, she drew her blade as a half dozen men, in dark leathers burst out of an alleyway. One fired another arrow as they tried to break past the encircling guards.

Cat swayed out of the way as she drew her blade and engaged the man who seemed intent on barrelling her out of the way. After all, she seemed the easiest target. He fell with his throat slashed open.

Beside her, Syrio had another down and was engaging a third.

A large, olive-skinned man swung a heavy single-bladed axe which she deftly avoided and stepped in to kill him with a quick thrust. A second blade, this one a longsword, slashed toward her face and she fell back a half-step before lunging forward. Her strike was turned aside as she faded a step as he thrust toward her chest. Her opponent expected to hit and for a moment was off-balance. A moment was all she needed to put her blade through his leather armour and his heart.

Then it was over.

Guards were everywhere and Syrio and Cat found themselves ordered to stand down. As they put up their weapons, a fat man wearing a tabard festooned with the Manderly Merman walked toward them.

"Thank you for your aid, Goodman…and you as well, my lady," said the man who was puffing when he reached them. "I am Ser Wendel Manderly. That was certainly fine blade work. Braavosi, if I am any judge."

Syrio bowed, "Syrio Forel, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser Manderly."

"Syrio Forel, the former First Sword of the Sealord?" At Syrio's nod, Ser Wendel beamed. "A pleasure to see you in action Syrio. Might I ask your companion's name and how you came to be here?"

"I am Cat of the Canals," replied Cat with a slight smile.

"By your accent you too are Braavosi? With your colouring I would have thought you from the free cities, Lys or Volantis perhaps," mused Wendel. "But no matter. Your aid was timely indeed, and I am in your debt."

"May I ask what we stumbled into?" Syrio asked as he watched the Manderly men leading out a line of bound men while others began dragging the dead away.

Ser Wendel grimaced, "Raiders and slavers from Slavers Bay. They sought to establish their vile trade but thankfully we caught on to this lot before they could make problems. We are always on the lookout for scum like this."

Neither Syrio nor Cat tried to hide their disdain for the criminals being led past.

"Those left will hang, after a fair trial of course," added Wendel with grim satisfaction.

"Good," said Syrio coldly. He like most Braavosi despised slavery, "Do we need to make a statement?"

Wendel shook his head as he stroked his moustache, "No, but I am, as I said, in your debt. Are you travelling any further?"

"We are seeking work as swordmasters," replied Cat.

Wendel seemed to brighten on hearing their intentions, "Well then, perhaps I can help you."

oOoOo