Tyrion did not hesitate for an instant.
"Ah, good morning, good men of the Free Folk. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I can find the wines the Wolf gave me?"
The two marauders stared at him, then stepped forward. Of course they didn't speak the language.
Tyrion searched his mind for their captain's name, and realized to his horror that though he'd heard it bellowed at the top of the barbarian's lungs, he was at a loss to remember it at that very moment.
"I'm the Wolf's paymaster! The Wolf! Wolf!"
In desperation, as the hairier of the marauders was about to grab him, Tyrion threw his head back and howled. The sailor stared at him as though a madman.
Tyrion swiftly tried miming every distinctive feature he could recall about the barbarian, pushing his locks into a crest, bringing his hand to his head, then to his shin to show the difference in height, pointing at his head then at different points on his chest where the Wolf's trophy skulls dangled on chains, imitating the Wolf's swaggering stride when he insulted men into fighting him, and finally howled again while bringing his hands in front of his mouth, hoping his fingers would represent the fangs of a wolf.
Both marauders stared at the pantomime as though fascinated, simultaneously turned their heads to each other, blinked, and turned back to Tyrion.
Finally, the shorter of the two spoke.
"Wulfrik?"
Relief flooded over Tyrion and he nodded vigorously.
"Yes! Yes, Wulfrik, that's his name! The Wolf, Wulfrik, whatever you call him, I pay him! Me! Tyrion Lannister!"
The name did not seem to register with the marauders, but the shorter one looked critically at him.
"Skjaldslatr?"
Now Tyrion looked at him in confusion.
The marauder took a fighting stance, one arm held horizontally before him, the other gripping an invisible weapon. Then he thrust his arm forward, opened his other hand, and then seemed to repeatedly bring down an object with both hands. Both Tyrion and the hairy marauder stared at him before Tyrion understood.
"Oh, shield-slayer! Yes, yes, that's what he calls me!"
Tyrion burst into nervous laughter, miming the brutal pounding that had saved him in the Vale and now in the Wolf's ship. The marauders also laughed, and looked marginally less aggressive.
A loud and angry voice was heard from outside, and the sailors suddenly looked guilty. The light in the hold dimmed further as the Wolf darkened the door. He barked an order at the marauders, but stopped short when his gaze fell on Tyrion.
"Shield-slayer!? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, Ser Wolf. I think perhaps there was a misunderstanding. I came looking for you, and thought I might as well take a little wine for the road. It's hot work, trudging through the ash."
"Such is your right. But why did they let you through without coming to see me?"
"They didn't, there was no one guarding the ship."
The Wolf's face darkened.
"Is that so."
In the enclosed space, the Wolf's raised voice was even louder. Tyrion winced and put his hands over his ears to avoid being deafened. Both marauders quailed before their captain, babbling quickly before dropping to the floor when he smashed their heads together. Grabbing one in each hand, he hurled their unconscious bodies through the hold's door onto the deck outside.
Tyrion removed his hands from his ears. The Wolf nodded in a satisfied way.
"If they prefer playing dice to guarding my ship, they'll pay the price."
Tyrion stepped forward as if to leave the hold, but paused.
"There was... something making noise in there?"
"There?"
The Wolf looked in the direction Tyrion pointed.
"Oh, that's Helga."
"… Helga?"
"The sow. She thinks it's feeding time whenever she hears people in here, and if her trough isn't filled soon after, she remind us of it by scraping at the wall."
"The sow."
"For longer voyages, aye. Meat only starts spoiling after it's butchered, so we keep a few animals aboard so we don't have to choose between eating each other and eating one more smoked herring. And for very long voyages, too. Sometimes sailors get a little too lonely."
The Wolf laughed and headed outside. Tyrion looked with apprehension at the hidden helmet before following him.
Behind the wooden partition, Cersei started crying, the sobbing muffled by her gag. She had been desperate enough to try to get Tyrion's attention as soon as she recognized him through the hole in the planks, but the Wolf's arrival had cut even that hope short.
Next to Cersei, the sow grunted contentedly and rolled over in her sleep.
Tyrion felt quite grateful to see sunlight again, dimmed though it was by the ash cloud.
"... I should have asked for permission to board, of course."
"Yes, you should have... but you can hardly be blamed for not asking if there was no one there to deny you entry. Good thing you managed to tell them who you are, they nearly gutted you to sell your vitals. Sorcerers seem to prize dwarf bodies in their recipes hereabouts."
The Wolf seemed not to notice Tyrion's choked reaction.
"Why did you wish to see me?"
Tyrion pushed the question of the helmet to the back of his mind for the time being. He noticed two other marauders waiting by the mast, one with a broken nose and one with a helm engraved into the likeness of a bear's head. The former seemed to be laughing at his comrades' misfortune, the latter leaned against the mast. The helm turned, fell on Tyrion, and jerked away.
"I... I want to investigate the dungeons and cellars of the Red Keep. And your men to help clear the rubble, if you can spare them."
"Certainly I can. Not much left to guard against, although not so little as they seem to believe."
The Wolf barked at the punished marauders on the deck, who were getting up, still clutching their heads.
"Those two will carry your wine to your quarters. No fear of losing a little on the way, they know what will happen if temptation should strike them."
Tyrion looked behind. him The two marauders were pulling barrels out of the hold, their noses dripping with blood.
"Where are the rest of your men?"
"In town, running errands."
"Errands?"
"Yes. Not far from your cellars either."
"The city was conquered yesterday, and you're letting them run free?"
"Oh, they've been warned as to what will happen if they behave in a manner unfitting of the Dragonqueen's banner."
"Unfitting...?"
"Yes, apparently there's been cases of her soldiers turning on each other over pillage rights. I hear Snow had to kill a few on his own, yesterday and this morning."
The Wolf shook his head.
"Quite a few seemed to think that just because the queen was attacking indiscriminately, that gave them leave to do so as well, all for an extra handfuls of loot. Few seem to understand that the actions permitted of a queen and tamer of dragons are not those of the lower orders, for she is beholden to no one. Power is all in this world, and those who have not the power to do as they please must pay the price."
Tyrion felt there was a point being made at Daenerys' expense, but could not quite find the words to argue against it. He changed the subject.
"And did any of them report seeing my brother, or Cersei?"
"Your brother? I thought he was imprisoned here."
"He... escaped. And would doubtless have tried to gain access to the city."
The Wolf shrugged.
"I have not heard that he was seen in the walls. Although corpses mangled beyond recognition are hardly in short supply, and there's many a man who'll be thought missing until there is a way to un-burn ash. As for the whore-queen..."
Tyrion winced.
"Perhaps she finally started thinking with her head, and went to ground for the moment. Wherever she is, she's better off than in the Dragonqueen's clutches, or rather the maw of her dragon."
The Wolf turned and descended from the ship. Tyrion followed. As he looked back, he saw the marauders standing guard, their weapons drawn.
As they approached the Iron Gate, the Wolf spat contemptuously as they passed the unused battering ram.
"Doing your namesake proud, Sveinbjorn. Useless piece of trash."
Tyrion had more pressing concerns. Charred corpses littered the streets, empty-eyed men stumbling through the streets, unaware of their missing limbs, driven mad by pain and sheer terror. He shuddered.
"Gods..."
"No, gods would have been more thorough. The walls are still standing, most of these buildings still have roofs. All in all, there's a lot more left usable than if we'd broken in the mundane way."
The Wolf shrugged as they neared the Red Keep, the Unsullied guards stepping aside as soon as they saw Tyrion and giving the barbarian dirty looks. News of Gunnar's rampage had traveled fast.
"Perhaps the Dragonqueen preferred to rule from a fortress of stone and not cinder."
Tyrion stared at the barbarian in disbelief, then remembered he likely had not heard of Cersei's treachery.
"You are... used to sieges, I take it?"
"I've seen a few... but they tend not to last long."
"Yes, I can imagine why."
The Wolf sniggered.