Jon Arryn
He squinted at the sun as we walked over the cobblestones. Some hours to go until the evening meal. And hours to go until night. He hoped that Bronn had his wits about him. It was going to be a long night, he could feel it. And there was a gnawing worm of unease in his midriff. Too much was happening. Too many things were distracting him. He could feel that his usual duties were being allowed to slip a little and he scowled.
"My Lord Hand," said a voice to one side and he half-turned to see Stannis Baratheon walking towards him. He looked… well as much as he always did. He supressed the term that Robert often used about Stannis, about the poker up his… well, enough of that. "You look annoyed my Lord Hand."
He looked about carefully for an instant and was gratified to see that Stannis did the same thing. "I am… worried about this trial tomorrow. Baelish is, in the words of one of my men, a weasel. I do not trust the man. His word is useless. And such a man is therefore undependable."
Stannis Baratheon nodded shortly. "I was on my way to see you with word of Baelish's further corruption. Inspection of his books has revealed that there were no fewer than a dozen pursers in the King's Navy in his pay. A dozen!" The last word was almost spat out in the nearest that Stannis Baratheon ever came to an outright fury.
"This is ill news," Jon sighed. "So many?"
"So many. All giving short rations or skimming off the top whenever they could when it came to provisions meant for the fleet."
Something sparked in the back of his mind and he paused and rubbed his chin with a finger. "Could that be classed as treason then?"
Stannis sent a brief smile in his direction. "Aye. It might well. Which is why I wanted to tell you about it."
"If you might explain as we walk – I have to go to the Sept of Baelor. The High Septon wishes to see me."
The other man's eyebrows went up. "About what?"
"He did not say, except that the matter was urgent."
Stannis frowned for a moment. "Do you think that this relates to Baelish?"
That was a good point. "I know not."
"Then I shall accompany you, if you do not mind."
Jon thought about it for a moment as they walked and then nodded. "Please do."
They found the High Septon waiting for them at the steps of the Great Sept itself and Jon narrowed his eyes a little as he looked at the man. He'd never liked the High Septon. The man was a large, sweaty, obsequious toadie, and that was on a good day. And judging by the way that the men was wringing his hands and shifting from side to side at the very sight of Jon and Stannis, today was not a good day.
"My Lord Hand. Lord Baratheon," the High Septon said, almost knotting his fingers together. "Thank you for answering my call. There... there is something you need to see inside. Something… strange."
Despite himself Jon found his eyebrows arcing upwards for a moment. Then he saw the Septons who were waiting at the doors, which were open a crack. The men looked… nervous. So did the Septas that he could see. "Then lead on, High Septon."
The High Septon nodded jerkily and then led them into the Great Sept. As they all entered the doors boomed shut behind them. The sun was shining through the windows on the far side and as they walked deeper into the Sept Jon could see more and more nervous people watching him. Something was raising his hackles. He could sense fear.
And then they got to the main chamber of the Sept, where Jon and Stannis both stopped dead in shock. The statues. The statues of the Seven were… different. Previously they had been facing inwards in a circle, with the exception of The Stranger. Now they were all facing in the same direction. North? Were they facing North? And there was something else. The statues themselves looked as if some of them had changed. The Warrior now held a bared blade in one hand and held the other out with a palm held outwards in a gesture of warning. The Smith held his hammer in both hands. The Father now held a feather. The Crone's lantern was now a brand. The Maiden and the Mother both held their hands outstretched in warning. And the Stranger… the stranger was hooded and seemed to have icicles hanging off his outstretched hand.
"What has… has happened here?" Jon stammered the words in shock. "Who has changed the statues of the seven? This… this is blasphemy, is it not?"
The High Septon wrung his hands again. "It… it is… a mystery my Lord Hand. A mystery."
The air was filled by a snort from Stannis Baratheon, a man that Jon knew was not a particularly devout follower of the Seven. "Mummery! Cant! Someone must have changed them!" Then his eyes narrowed. "When did this happen?"
More hand-wringing. "It was discovered this morning my Lord Hand. At dawn." And then he flinched violently as both Lords turned on him as one.
"Dawn?" Jon barked, just ahead of Stannis. "This happened at dawn and you have only just called it to my attention? High Septon, you should have told me hours ago!"
The wretched man looked as if he was about to either pass out or piss himself. "My, my Lord Hand, we had to… investigate. I had to inspect this all most closely." His face was shining with sweat. "I did indeed also think that it was mummery at first, a, a, trick of some sort. But on closer inspection…"
Jon glared at him for a moment and then, with Stannis by his side, he strode over to the statues. The originals must have been replaced with something. Without anyone knowing? "Who guards the Great Sept at night?"
A grey-haired Septon stepped forwards. He appeared to be just a worldly as the High Septon but a lot more competent. "The doors are closed every night, my Lord Hand, and guards set. And there is always a Septon on hand to keep the candles lit." He was glaring at the High Septon, who was doing his best not to look at him. "And last night a Septon was doing penance in the Great Sept. He… he saw something."
"This is not right," Stannis said to one side. "The base of this is… different."
Everyone looked over at him. Stannis Baratheon was inspecting the base of the nearest statue closely. "I thought that someone had painted this, or wrapped canvas around it. Anything to make it look different. But this is stone. The same stone as the ground under us. And it grips the feet of the statues." He looked genuinely stunned.
"My Lords," the grey-haired Septon said quietly. "The statues have not been replaced. I have inspected them most carefully. There are various… marks on them that are the same. And then there is the tale of the Septon."
"Where is this Septon?" Jon asked as he looked around the Sept and then back at the statues of the Seven.
The various Septons and Septas all stared at the High Septon, who twitched visibly at all the attention. "My Lords," he said worriedly, "The man is… well, the man is unstable. There is a reason he was doing penance last night."
"He does have rather… unorthodox beliefs," the grey-haired Septon admitted. "About the issue of abstinence. Or rather abandoning it. But he was in the Sept. And he saw… something."
"Where is he?"
The High Septon did his little side-to-side shuffle of nervous unease. It was the grey-haired Septon who nodded at a group of men to one side who nodded back and then vanished off into a side passage. A few moments later they reappeared with a short man with messy dark hair and a look of resigned befuddlement. When he saw everyone staring at him he straightened as much as he could and then shot a nervous look at the statues of the Seven.
"This is Septon Tofflin," the High Septon said with a sigh. "Septon, this is the Hand of the King and Lord Baratheon. Tell him what you saw at dawn, at the end of your penance."
Tofflin shot Jon a terrified look and then swallowed. "I… I was coming to the end of my… penance." He seemed to pause before the last word, as if he was about to say something else but then changed his mind. "And dawn was breaking. I was looking at the Seven and then…" His mouth worked for a moment as if in terror and then he seemed to catch himself. "They woke up."
A silence fell. The Septons and Septas must have heard this before, because the silence was then broken by muttering and what sounded like quiet prayers. Jon tilted his head from one side to the other, whilst Stannis directed his most piercing stare at the Septon. "What?" Jon said eventually.
Tofflin flailed a hand at the statues of the Seven. "They came awake my Lord! They opened their eyes!"
Jon stared at the statues. Their eyes seemed to be open already and they were all stone. His confusion must have shown in his face, because Tofflin once again flailed his arms in the direction of the Seven. "Their eyes blazed with light my Lord! And such a light! Like the sun at dawn!"
Something very cold and with many, many, legs seemed to slither up and down Jon's spine for a moment. "Did they look at you?"
Tofflin screwed his eyes shut and then visibly shivered in terror. "Aye," he said in a very faint voice. "Aye, they did. And then the Warrior seemed to, to shine and shimmer, like a Dornish mirage. And then he was he seems now. And then they all changed! Whilst I watched! And then…" He stumbled to a halt.
"And then? Speak up man!" Stannis barked.
"And then they spoke. As one. In a voice like the breaking of mountains. They told me to watch the North. That death and worse than death walks against the Wall. And then…" His face worked again. "They said that word should pass to watch the East. That the high towers, the five forts, should watch the Grey Wastes. And then… then they all turned to face… where they're facing right now."
Everyone turned to look at the statues again. The thing with the legs seemed to do its thing again on his spine.
"My Lord Hand," the grey-haired Septon said in an urgent low voice. "We need to keep this quiet. Especially there are already… interpretations… of Tofflin's tale flying around."
"'Interpretations'?" Jon asked – and then he saw the flush on the face of the High Septon. Ah. This was the cause of the delay. The fools had been busy arguing over if this entire thing had happened and if it meant anything in particular. "What interpretations?"
Various Septons and Septas seemed to glare at others in the hall, many of whom glared back. The High Septon achieved a new colour in his complexion whilst the grey-haired Septon sighed and then winced. "There are those who seem to think that the Seven were warning about the North my Lord Hand. And those that worship the Old Gods."
Jon stared at the man and then rubbed at his forehead in exasperation. This was why he hated priests. It always came down to one fool trying to reinterpret what someone else had said and in doing so trying to get more influence. And more influence meant more power. Especially with a High Septon as useless as the current one in office.
"I was not aware that the worshippers of the Old Gods in the North were also North of the Wall and that they were in fact 'death and worse than death', as Tofflin said." Stannis pointed this out in a deadpan voice.
"I agree," Jon said vehemently. Then he paused. No. That was mad. "North of the Wall… would the Seven be warning us about the Wildlings? Or… worse?"
"What could be worse than Wildlings?"
Jon had a sudden nasty feeling that he knew why Ned was asking so many questions about the Others. But that wasn't possible. They were gone. Weren't they? This time he ran a weary hand over his eyes. "I think that I must send a raven to Winterfell," he said tiredly. "This is something that I must discuss with Lord Stark."
Stannis nodded once and then directed a troubled gaze at the statues again. "And the Great Sept?"
"High Septon, I think that the Great Sept must be closed for what remains of today. We need to discuss how to handle this. If fools are already discussing interpretations that lead to slurs against the believers in the Old Gods of the North then prompt action must be taken against them." Especially if those who spout such stupidity are secret supporters of the Faith Militant, whose return would be a disaster.
The High Septon nodded jerkily, followed by the grey-haired fellow. He needed to know who he was, the man seemed far better than the idiot in charge here. And all of this took him away from preparing for Baelish's trial. Well, at least Stannis had given him more arrows to fire at the traitor.
And speaking of the trial… he paused and then gestured to one of his men. "Fetch Grand Maester Pycelle," he instructed. "We need to find out exactly where these statues are now all facing." Seeing Stannis raise an eyebrow at him he explained in a low voice: "The Grand Maester may be a fool, but he has one redeeming virtue. He is very good at determining such things."
"He is?" Stannis said in great surprise.
"Oh yes. He hides such a talent." He wondered for a moment what else he hid. Then he leant closer to Stannis. "And it will prevent him from attending the trial. You and I must talk about that. I have decided on a few things, so that matters do not become… complicated."
Stannis nodded and then looked back at the statues of the Seven. "I like this not," he muttered. "What can this portend? And why does it happen now? Have the Seven truly spoken to us?"
Jon joined him in looking at the silent figures on their pedestals. "I know not. Nor can I tell you what has changed and why. Just that it has. And that it is."