Cayn
The ground was cool beneath his little paws. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air, revelling in his elevated sense of smell.
Ever since Lord Bloodraven had gifted him with the dragon talisman, Cayn had set aside a window of time to explore the underground passages. Whilst his body lay undisturbed in his chambers, his mind was free to travel beneath the earth.
It had been very dark when he'd first made that ominous journey to Shiera's lair. It was useless to rely on his recollection of that first time; he had another plan in mind. Rats were more intelligent and wilful than most would have assumed, but they served as excellent spies and scouts.
Sooner or later, scurrying down those tunnels, he would come across one of the silent guards in Shiera's employ. They would not look twice at a rat, and if Lord Bloodraven spoke truly, then his amulet would shield his spirit from the Seastar's detection.
He didn't know what he expected to find, or whether he would regret this venture. Over the years, he had heard every sort of rumour surrounding her sorcery, and it had been much easier to dismiss them all as mere calumny.
Still, he had always reckoned that there were some kernels of truth amongst those stories. One could not spend so much time with Lord Bloodraven and think otherwise.
When Cayn had been growing up as Titus' squire, he had often seen Shiera Seastar about the royal court. Men had proclaimed their love for her, had fought duels over her, and she had entertained it as her due. Titus had loathed her, and warned his wards against her.
"She is treacherous," he had once told Cayn when he was a boy. "She and Brynden Rivers both. They have no true feeling but for each other."
Something had changed, however. In the first few years of Cayn's service to Lord Bloodraven, Shiera's appearances had become noticeably fewer. By the time Cayn had passed his thirty-sixth year, Shiera was almost a complete recluse. King Maekar's funeral had been her first public appearance in three years. Lord Bloodraven still went to see her privately, of course, and only a fool would try following him.
Now that Cayn had seen her lair, however, and now that she'd openly tried to seduce him, now that she had made those ominous promises…
Very well, she'd told him. I'll put your mind at ease. Not a day went by that he didn't wonder what she'd meant. Nor could he forget the withering contempt in her voice when she'd mocked his concern over Lord Bloodraven's reaction. Don't be a fool, Cayn. I have had my beloved Brynden wrapped round my finger since I was twelve years old.
Despite his devotion to his master, Cayn did not trust that Lord Bloodraven could fully protect him from Shiera's machinations, so he wished to understand her better.
On the fifth day since beginning these ventures, he managed to find a pair of these imposing men. They stood on either side of a closed door, gripping their weapons at the ready.
For what felt like an eternity, Cayn waited on the guards to be relieved, or for them to move. All that time, they did not speak to each other, they did not scratch an itch, they did not cough. They scarcely seemed to be alive at all, like gargoyles covered in human skin.
When Cayn returned some time later, as he lay abed for the night, the two guards were still there. Thus it fell to Cayn to resume exploring.
Men had made these tunnels, and they had a wide range, but that was nothing compared to the tunnels traversed by rats. Cayn scurried down one path, then another, crossing the larger tunnels for the narrow crevices and gaps in which vermin thrived.
Twice, Cayn was confronted by rats which he could neither outfight or outrun. Instead, he took over their bodies and resumed his quest.
He sought out the ugly guards, using them as a sign that he was heading in the right direction. Find them he did, too, marching or standing still in pairs. He counted a dozen of them, though it was sometimes difficult to distinguish them from each other. Whence did Shiera scoop them up? Do they even eat or sleep as other men? Do they use the privy? Do they have any thoughts of their own? When was the last time one of them heard a jape and burst out laughing?
Cayn had no answers, but he finally did receive the answer for which he'd spent hours to uncover.
Down one of the ratholes, Cayn heard something new. It was a sound which he had never thought to hear this far below the earth, so deep in the darkness.
It was some sort of outcry. It was not like the sound which the rats were making; it was the sound made by creatures of Cayn's kind.
Despite his heightened senses, it took considerable time before he could hear the noise again. For a terrifying moment, he thought he'd lost the trail entirely. Then he heard another cry ring out; he was close enough to recognise that it was the cry of a young woman.
Too far to glean whether it was Shiera or someone else, Cayn redoubled his pace and his efforts. His latest rat was growing weary, and thus more desperate to be free of Cayn's control. He seized the next one he found and ran faster.
Slowly, inevitably, the sounds grew louder. He began to hear the terror and despair which made each call into a keening.
Dread seized him as he continued to barrel his way through the dark, with nothing but other rats and the echoes of horror serving as his company. It became worse when he drew near enough to detect which words were being shrieked aloud.
"Help! Help us! Save us!"
Cayn froze in his tracks when these pleas were met with loud cracks and agonised screams. He continued to sprint toward the sounds, long after they'd gone quiet again, until he saw a flickering light.
He threw himself toward it, bursting from a hole into another large tunnel. He made for nearby shadows to shield himself from view, just in case someone had a mind to crush him under their boot.
With that done, he turned and beheld one of the vilest sights of his life.
Along one side of the tunnel wall was a vast cage, secured to the wall so that all inside were trapped between stone and metal bars. Over a dozen girls were inside it, sitting or crouching on the cold ground. Most were thin, but didn't seem to be starving. What disturbed Cayn most of all was the stricken expressions on their faces. Their eyes were wide to take in the meagre light, which only accentuated the forlornness which characterised their countenances.
Cautiously, Cayn crept forward, forgetting to behave as a rat might. He looked about for any sign of those who were keeping them prisoner, but he saw none in sight. Then he approached the cage, gazing up at the girls. The eldest of them appeared to be sixteen, while the youngest looked no older than eight. All of them wore the ill-fitting and ragged garb of smallfolk.
As he approached, some of the girls recoiled from him, whimpering with fear. Cayn was too awestruck to care about them, but he did start at the hungry expression which two of the girls gave him as they eyed him like hawks.
He gave them a wide berth, prowling around the cage. As far as he could tell, there was no way to escape it, and besides, he could hardly communicate with them anyway.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps. The heavy tread of iron-shod boots.
As the girls whimpered and wept, Cayn crouched by one of the bars and watched with a thrill of horror. Two of Shiera's guards were approaching the cage, carrying torches in their hands. Behind them came two more men, brandishing weapons.
The sudden influx of light caused Cayn to notice something from the corner of his eye. He turned his head to the wall, which had been marked in some fashion. What he saw made him nearly cry out.
Dozens and dozens of messages had been scratched into the rock. Most were brief, giving the names of those who'd carved the words. Others begged for the gods' help. As Cayn's eyes scanned each message, two near the bottom caused him to stiffen and stare in mute dismay. It cannot be…
A sudden shriek of metal caused him to look back at the guards. They had opened the cage and seized three of the girls. Without uttering a word, or even a sound, the grim-faced men led the girls down the tunnel from whence they'd come.
Cayn followed after them, forcing himself to keep a wary distance. Every part of him was alert, now that he was about to uncover a mystery which had haunted him for countless days and nights.
Bessie had been a sweet-faced servant girl. He had befriended her as he'd grown up in the Red Keep, and she had fallen madly in love with him. He had never been able to explain to her that he loved her too, but felt no desire for her, nor for any man or woman that he'd ever met. All the same, he had been consumed with grief when she'd disappeared. He had always wondered what became of her, but he'd never dreamed of anything so vile as this.
As if that was not enough, there was also the revelation of Barba. He had known her for more than two years, back when they had been wards of Lord Titus Dondarrion. They had been good years. He had liked her well enough; she had been courageous, resourceful, clever, daring, unafraid to stand up for herself. How did she and Bessie end up in such a hellish place as this?
Trailing after the guards and their captives, Cayn did not need to wonder where they were going. He recalled Shiera's chamber, how there had been two doors. He had come through one of them, and now he went through the second.
It was closer to the stone bath; Cayn dared not dart into the room, so he could only peer inside whilst the door was open. Confirming his suspicions, he saw Shiera Seastar standing by the bath, naked as the day she was born. She turned to look at the newcomers, both the silent men and the whimpering girls. Although she was still beautiful, the flagrant malice in her expression was enough to make Cayn shudder.
"Bring them here," she ordered curtly. As she turned, Cayn saw that she was gripping a curved dagger in one hand. Two of the girls burst into tears. The other silently fell to her knees.
That was all he saw before the door slammed shut, but it was more than enough. He had once heard the Prince Aegon pass on a rumour that Shiera bathed in blood to keep her beauty. Cayn had dismissed the notion for twenty-seven years, even as Shiera had seemed to age only five of them.
He turned and fled as fast as he could: away from that evil lair, past the cage of doomed girls, down a long tunnel which turned this way and that. As his panic gave way to cold fury, he was determined to discover how he might return.
He did not have to wait long. As he sprinted around the last corner, he ran past two more guards standing in the shadows, heeding him no more than if he was invisible. Leaving them behind, Cayn saw one final stretch of darkness, with torchlight beyond.
With one final leap, he emerged into the back of what appeared to be stables. Just as with the cage, the structure was built so that the back wall was a rock face, even as the other three sides were made of wood and brick alike. Horses were resting in their stalls whilst one last guard was sitting amongst them, looking balefully at the door.
Luckily, there was a crack in the bottom of the door which Cayn squeezed through without any fuss. For the first time in what felt like years, he was outside again, his clawed feet standing on cobblestones beneath a black sky.
It was difficult to gauge the hour. Very few were left on the streets, so Cayn was able to carefully take in his surroundings. It did not take him long to realise that he was deep in Flea Bottom, at the foot of Rhaenys' Hill. The ragged remains of the Dragonpit loomed up far above him, like some great castle made of shadow.
Cayn continued on, taking note of how to find the stable. What he intended to do, he was not sure, but he had spent far too much time with Lord Bloodraven to undervalue the worth of knowledge.
Thus did he find a street which he knew. He followed it out of Flea Bottom, until he saw a stray dog in the distance. After no small amount of effort, Cayn released the rat and slipped into the dog's skin. In that guise, he padded through the city towards Aegon's Hill.
As he did so, freed from the need to take in his surroundings, Cayn's head buzzed with angry thoughts. He pondered how long Bessie and Barba had suffered, what had become of them after Shiera was finished with them, what Shiera gained from it, whether Lord Bloodraven knew… I have had my beloved Brynden wrapped round my finger since I was twelve years old.
He was still consumed with thoughts when a shrill whistle caused him to cry aloud in surprise and pain.
"Here, boy!"
Cayn turned to the speaker with alacrity, for he recognised the voice.
Grand Maester Piato stood before him, disguised as a begging brother. Cayn would have walked straight past him without a second glance, for the disguise was remarkably effective. Now the Grand Maester was leaning forward and beckoning to Cayn with his hand. He always did love dogs.
Cayn approached him slowly, as a stray animal would hesitate to trust a stranger. As he approached the Grand Maester, he noticed that he had an empty raven cage slung over one shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, boy," Piato urged as he scratched the top of Cayn's head. "I have no food for you, but I'll let you into the castle."
"Oy! Not so fast!"
Cayn followed Piato's gaze down the hill, only to see another shocking sight. Older though he was, he saw that it was Sadog almost immediately. He was garbed in his usual purple, and his face was red from limping up Aegon's Hill. What on earth are these two doing out so late? And why is Piato dressed as a begging brother?
"Having trouble, my lord?" Piato called to Sadog in a deferential tone. Cayne was deeply confused until he realised that it was part of Piato's act. How else will a begging brother slip past the guards at this hour?
After Piato made it past the guards, he patted Cayn's head. "Good boy. Go find something to eat!" He patted the dog's rump as further encouragement before going on his own way.
Releasing the dog, Cayn returned to his own body with a low gasp. His limbs were stiff as he sat up and began to stretch.
Cayn knew that he ought to sleep, but he could not. His discovery was too much to endure.
Getting out of his bed, he went to his desk and wrote down all he'd discovered, including the directions to Shiera's lair, where the girls were kept prisoner for her vile magic.
It had been a very long time since he'd felt so unclean as when he recalled how he had abandoned those girls. True, he'd been wearing a rat's skin, but he almost wept shameful tears to recall Bessie and Barba.
As the sun began to rise, there was a knock at Cayn's door. He looked up from his writing. "Yes?"
The door opened and Colwyn of Perrill stepped into Cayn's chambers. "Good morrow, Captain. Lord Bloodraven requests your presence in the godswood."
Cayn stiffened at this summons, paralysed with doubt as he wondered how much Lord Bloodraven knew.
"Captain?" Colwyn tilted his head in confusion. "Are you unwell?"
"Never you mind," Cayn replied sharply. He stood up and began dressing himself in haste. "Go see to your duties."
"Aye," Colwyn answered, looking nervous at this admonishment. Cayn had no time to pity the lad; in less than ten minutes, he was pacing down the staircase three at a time.
No matter how fast he could have travelled to the godswood, however, his mind raced faster. He still did not know what to make of his discovery, and how to broach the subject with Lord Bloodraven. He was still struggling to think clearly when he came upon his master before the heart tree, precisely where he'd first become his pupil all those years ago.
As he'd previously done, Lord Bloodraven was kneeling before the heart tree, straight-backed and still with his eyes fixed upon the great oak which served as the heart tree. He did not stir when Cayn approached, nor when Cayn knelt beside him.
"Would that a weirwood grew here," Lord Bloodraven finally observed. "When I was a boy in Raventree Hall, I would worship in the godswood for hours on end. My mother always said I would find guidance among those trees." He leaned forward and touched the oak tree with his hand. "Do you remember when my mother died, Cayn?"
"I do, my lord." When word reached King's Landing that Lady Melissa Blackwood had passed, Cayn had led one hundred Raven's Teeth as Lord Bloodraven's escort to Raventree Hall.
"My nephew arranged for her sickbed to be placed before the weirwood tree," Lord Bloodraven observed in a voice devoid of emotion. "I might have seen her one last time."
Cayn said nothing. He felt tongue-tied in his master's presence, hearing him speak of his late mother, all while the storm raged inside of him over what he'd uncovered. How many of those girls will live to see the next moon? Are their mothers praying now? Will they burst into tears when their daughters' throats are finally cut?
"Cayn?"
He gave a start at the utterance of his name. "My lord?"
"I said I dreamed of the weirwood again."
"Indeed?" Cayn forced down his panic and spoke as if nothing were amiss. "What happened?"
"I stood beneath a great storm," Lord Bloodraven murmured. "There were flashes of lightning, rolling thunder, and raindrops hitting me with great force. After some time, I realised that the rain was not of water, but blood."
Cayn shuddered, recalling the knife in Shiera's hand. "What did you do?"
"I ran to find shelter," Lord Bloodraven admitted in a quiet voice, as if he was ashamed of his actions in a dream. "There was a great weirwood tree, standing alone at the far end of the field."
"Did its face have three eyes?"
"As always," Lord Bloodraven affirmed. "Anyway, I ran towards it. The lightning was growing stronger and stronger over my head, forcing me onward so that I dared not flee in any other direction. I halted only once, when I saw the Iron Throne."
"The Iron Throne?" Cayn repeated, frowning in confusion. "What was it doing there?"
"I wish to know that too," Lord Bloodraven reminded him; his face was still turned from Cayn, but his amusement was unmistakable. "In any case, I halted, for I saw that a dragon sat upon it."
Despite his conflicted disposition, Cayn found himself growing curious. "What colour was it?"
"I couldn't tell," Lord Bloodraven admitted. "That was why I halted. I tried to peer through the rain, and I hoped that the lightning might show me. But then there was a terrible bolt which nearly struck me. My head was ringing from the thunder above my head. I was flying through the air, unable to stop… finally, I felt myself hit something hard. As I crumpled to earth, I fell on my back, so I could see that I'd slammed against the weirwood. Only then did I see that its face was smiling."
"Strange," Cayn mused softly.
"Isn't it just?" Lord Bloodraven took his hand off the oak tree. His voice became darker with disgust. "This tree is a mockery."
Cayn agreed. The southern kingdoms had almost all abandoned the true gods when the Andals took over, but at least most of their castles still kept weirwood trees. He had always been irked by the Valyrians' attempt to ape a godswood to endear themselves to their conquered subjects.
"As to the dream," Lord Bloodraven went on, "I wonder why the dragon was in shadow."
"Mayhaps it was white?"
Lord Bloodraven finally took his gaze from the heart tree to look upon him with an unamused expression. "You know better than to impart your own wishes upon these visions."
Cayn felt his skin flush at this reprimand. "Why should a red dragon be concealed from your view?"
For a moment, it seemed as though Lord Bloodraven was amused. Even when the moment passed, he was less stern than before. "It gets us nowhere to study one small part of the dream. We must look at it as a whole. If I was meant to sit on the Iron Throne, why shouldn't I end up sitting on it?" He shook his head. "Search all you like, but I see no sign in these dreams that I must take the crown for myself."
"No doubt Lady Seastar will dispute that assessment."
He hadn't meant to say it aloud. It had slipped out of his mouth as easily as vomit leaves a wine sot's throat. Cayn flinched at his foolishness, even as Lord Bloodraven's jaw became visibly clenched.
"Is there something you wish to say?" The question was spoken softly, without malice, but Cayn felt a thrill of fear just the same.
There was no sense in keeping silent now, but nor was he willing to admit what he knew. He forced himself to look into that solitary red eye as he chose his words carefully. "My lord, might I ask what you know of Shiera's magic?"
"I know more about it than you," Lord Bloodraven replied calmly, "and it shall remain so."
Cayn understood the warning, but he was unwilling to yield so easily. "Do you not worry what sort of mischief she might be causing, then?"
Lord Bloodraven's eye was not blinking. Cayn, by contrast, blinked rapidly as he breathed slowly through his nostrils.
"If I were you," he finally murmured, "I would spend less time fretting over Shiera, and more time studying our enemies."
Cayn quickly bobbed his head, grateful for the chance to break eye contact with his master. He was equally relieved to have a ready answer. "I have news on that front as well, my lord."
Swiftly, he told his master all that he recalled of Grand Maester Piato, and how he had been carrying on the night before.
Thankfully, Lord Bloodraven was intrigued by this bit of news. "Mayhaps he has a new lover," he remarked thoughtfully. "A lover whom he does not mind putting at risk. Whyever would that be?" He turned back to the heart tree. "Follow him and find out the answer to this riddle."
"Yes, my lord," answered Cayn. He was about to leave before his master called his name once more.
"I do not need your help with one part of that dream. My hands and my soul are steeped in blood, I do not deny it. Death is no easy thing to live with, as well you know…" - Cayn shuddered, thinking of his first two killings - "but all I've done in my life, I have done for the good of the realm. And I would never have accomplished half as much as I did without Shiera's aid."
"As you say, my lord," Cayn replied hesitantly. Is this his answer to the question I never asked?
"That is not enough. Do you understand?" Lord Bloodraven insisted. "Do you truly understand what is sometimes required of us to protect the realm?"
Cayn shuddered again, but he nevertheless gave a low bow to Lord Bloodraven's back. "I always understood that, my lord. Why else would I join your service?"
Lord Bloodraven was quiet for a moment which seemed to last half an hour. Then, with a tone of finality, he spoke again. "Thank you, Captain. That will be all for now."
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As he so often did, Cayn broke his fast away from the Great Hall. His meals were often simple, and never contained meat. On this day, he was content with a bowl of thick porridge, fresh bread with honey, and a goblet of lemon water.
He thought back to his conversation with Lord Bloodraven earlier that day, wondering if he should have - could have - brought up the things which had been plaguing him.
It had been so many years since the Vulture Hunt, but he still recalled that period as one of the worst of his life. He had been blamed for poor Andrew's death, first by Maric and then by Titus. He still sometimes recalled how Maric had looked just before Cayn's fist had struck him, and then how he'd looked when he'd crumpled in a heap on the rocks of the Red Mountains. Cayn had never been accused of killing Maric; so far as he knew, no one had questioned that Maric, an injured boy, had lost his footing and slipped.
After he was finished with his meal, Cayn found another stray dog and slipped into its skin. With as much haste as he dared show, he trotted to the rookery, where Grand Maester Piato was busy providing the ravens with their food.
Thus did he observe the old man, even as he was blissfully unaware of Cayn's eye upon him. Even when he noticed the dog, he smiled and lured him over with the promise of food. Cayn played the part as best he could, ignoring the taste of meat in the dog's mouth as he followed Piato as he carried out his morning duties.
Finally, the Grand Maester cleaned himself and went back to the Great Hall. Cayn was disappointed, returning to his own body as other lords followed in the Grand Maester's footsteps.
The morning had not been successful, and he was no closer to uncovering anything about the old man. Nonetheless, Cayn also went down to the Great Hall, hoping that he might find some way to salvage the rest of his day.
By the time he arrived, the council had already begun, and the doors to the Great Hall were closed. He was surprised, however, by the sight of a woman and two men arguing with the guards, asking to be let in.
Cayn stood by, listening with sardonic amusement to their protests until the woman declared that their father was Titus Dondarrion.
The guards were about to dismiss them when Cayn stepped forward and interjected. His interruption prompted all to look upon him, even as he stared at Miru with his own eyes for the first time in twenty-seven years.
She was past thirty now, and looked far different from the frightened little girl that he'd known so briefly. For a second, Cayn was tempted to ask her what sort of life she had led, but this curiosity was outweighed by the ill-wishes he felt for one who saw fit to call Titus 'father'.
"Let them in," Cayn told the confused guards. "I'll vouch for their parentage." Just as they took hold of the door handles, Cayn halted them by speaking again. "But I do wonder why Lord Titus is indisposed."
"He is ill," Miru replied with alacrity. "Some minor winter chill, we hope, but Grand Maester Piato has already administered a potion to help him rest..."
Liar. Whatever else she said, Cayn knew that she was playing him false. Grand Maester Piato had not gone to see Titus all morning, he had seen that for himself. Lord Titus hadn't been ill the evening before either, and Piato had been out and about late into the night, far as Cayn could tell.
"No doubt," he lied in return, watching Miru's reaction carefully to see if anything else might be revealed.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a single trace of guilt upon her countenance. Miru's eyes had widened, but she did not gaze upon him with fear. He detected curiosity instead, and wonder. It was disconcerting, so that he turned from her to the guards. "Let them in."
He had already turned his back on Miru when she called her thanks, and he did not acknowledge it with word or gesture. His mind was already focused on his next task.
It did not take long before he wore the skin of a seagull which had flown into the city, seeking to scavenge its next meal. It served him well enough to fly up to the window of Titus' chambers.
Princess Jena sat within, reading from a book as she sat beside her brother's bed. At first, Cayn was baffled that Miru had spoken truly, until he looked closer and realised that Titus was not stirring beneath the sheets, and that Jena somehow hadn't noticed that her brother drew no breath.
He is not here. He's not in the castle anymore.
Stunned by the revelation, Cayn bade the seagull take wing and fly down to the docks with all haste. Sure enough, upon arrival, he saw no sign of the ship which had borne Titus to King's Landing. Titus is missing, along with his daughter and her ship. But where has he gone?
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"Excellent work," Lord Bloodraven remarked.
Cayn bobbed his head. "Thank you, my lord."
They sat in the Tower of the Hand, in Lord Bloodraven's chambers, sharing a light supper between them. The pale lord had insisted on Cayn joining him so that he could share his information comfortably.
Now that he was finished, Cayn tucked into his food and washed it down with more lemon water. He ate and drank more forcefully than he was accustomed, partly to quench the fire which was burning in his belly. He forced himself to stay calm as he spoke again. "I have a terrible feeling what this all means."
"Of course you do," Lord Bloodraven encouraged. "You know as well as I do what is happening. Why else would Piato and that crippled banker be out at night just before Titus Dondarrion sails into the night? Why would the Grand Maester be disguised? What sort of letter would he have sent? What sort of secret would warrant all this caution?"
Cayn was so wroth that he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Whatever else he'd pondered over the last two days, this revelation took immediate precedence. Aenys Blackfyre… they mean to summon Aenys Blackfyre to these shores… those fucking traitors…
"I thought I sent the right message," he murmured remorsefully. "I thought I slew the raven which brought Aenys' letter…"
"Traitors do not always learn their lessons the first time," Lord Bloodraven reminded him. "Failure will often inspire them to try again. Especially with these thick-headed Blackfyres."
"Forgive me," Cayn pleaded, unable to look in his master's face. "I was careless…"
"No, Cayn," came his master's gentle reply. "The fault is mine."
When Cayn raised his eyes, he saw that the pale lord's countenance was scowling.
"I knew Piato was not to be trusted," Lord Bloodraven finally murmured, "but I must admit, I did not think it possible that a Blackfyre supporter could hide in plain sight for so long. I must be getting careless with age."
Cayn glanced at his master in alarm. "You need not admonish yourself, my lord. You suspected him and you were right."
"True," Lord Bloodraven agreed, even as he returned Cayn's gaze and smiled. "I owe you a great debt. For this alone, I would have you begin your own house if you wished for it."
Cayn shook his head. "Respectfully, my loyalty needs no such reward." He spoke truly, but he did not add the other reason why he had no wish to begin his own house.
Lord Bloodraven's eye regarded Cayn with a thoughtful yet piercing expression. "Your house can begin and end with you. You need not wed or beget children."
Gods… how does he know so much of what is on my mind? "If such is the case," Cayn answered, "why bother with the formalities? I am content with my place, my lord."
"You are a remarkable man," the pale lord replied after another moment of silence. "I was very lucky to encounter you."
Cayn felt embarrassed at this praise, as he always did. Especially by how much it pleased him to hear it. He pushed the doubt from his mind as he was dismissed, then trudged back into the castle.
The captains of the Raven's Teeth made their abode in the lower levels of the Tower of the Hand.
"Keep an eye on Titus' brood. It should be easier tomorrow."
"Easier?" Cayn frowned in confusion. "Why is that?"
"The High Septon has announced a holy day for the morrow," Lord Bloodraven explained, his demeanour positively dripping with derision. "He and those pious Andals want Aemon to abandon his vows. They might as well ask Aegon to put aside my niece and marry one of his sisters."
Cayn grunted in acknowledgment of the jape. Aegon had fallen deeply in love with Betha Blackwood, and he'd been so far down the line of inheritance that Maekar had permitted the two to marry. It didn't hurt that Lord Bloodraven had been her uncle, of course, but Cayn doubted that Aegon had even noticed such a connection.
Just then, they were interrupted by a servant. "My lord," he told Lord Bloodraven, "there is a woman here. She calls herself Miru Dondarrion."
Cayn nearly sprang from his chair, but Lord Bloodraven shot him a glance before turning back to the servant. "What is she doing here?"
"She's looking for Captain Cayn," answered the servant, gesturing to Cayn. "She was told you had invited him to eat with you."
Cayn didn't doubt that. All the captains of the Raven's Teeth had their chambers in the Tower of the Hand, and any one of them would have told her where to find him. They had always been envious of Cayn's position within Lord Bloodraven's inner circle.
Lord Bloodraven gave Cayn a casual nod. "You had best not keep the lady waiting, Captain. She came all the way across this castle to find you."
Cayn nodded before he followed the servant out of Lord Bloodraven's chambers, even as he tried desperately to imagine what Miru could possibly want from him.
The servant had bade her wait in the Small Hall, which was on the ground level of the tower. She was pacing nervously along the trestled tables, looking up at the high-vaulted ceiling, when Cayn stepped into the long room.
Her face was taut and nervous as she looked at him. "You look well."
"As do you," Cayn answered carefully. He had spent more than twenty years in the courts of kings, and he had learned many lessons on how to conduct oneself. Thus, he maintained a solemn demeanour, without any hostile airs, and kept his hands clasped behind his back. "You wished to see me?"
"I suppose you know why I've come?" Miru asked hesitantly. For the first time, he saw a bit of the old Miru as one of her hands began to fidget.
For his part, Cayn was little better; her question flummoxed him; he opened his mouth, then closed it without uttering a syllable.
"Well," Miru muttered, "perhaps you don't." She brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead before continuing. "I wish to discover news of Barba."
Slowly, Cayn stepped forward and gripped the top of a chair. "What of her?"
Once again, Miru hesitated before she answered. "Have you ever found her? Or found out... what happened to her?"
Cayn inside were beginning to feel frigid. "You never told me that she'd vanished."
Miru blinked in surprise, but then her eyes narrowed and her voice became stronger. "That isn't fair, Cayn. I begged someone to find her for weeks after she'd gone. That was all I could do."
"And you suspect that I could do better?"
Miru regarded him silently for a moment. Then she put on a reassuring tone. "Cayn, I suspect nothing. I am asking you."
"Well, I've heard nothing of Barba. But if you want my opinion, then I would guess that she finally ran off."
Immediately - almost reflexively - Miru shook her head. "No. Something happened to her. I know it."
"Why?" Cayn frowned.
"Why" Miru echoed, looking as if his question had offended her. "Because she vanished without a trace! What could you possibly imagine happened otherwise?"
Cayn pre-emptively held up his hands in token of peace. "Because I knew Barba for more than two yours before you joined us. I knew her secrets."
Not for the first time, Miru surprised him. "So did I! I know that she was stealing."
"Aye, she was a thief," Cayn answered. "I sometimes saw her sneak away and not return for hours. Every time, I thought it would be the last time we saw her. I supposed that she'd finally saved up enough."
"I don't believe that" Miru protested hotly. "She never deceived me. She admitted that she'd thought of running away. But she never did. She always came back. She was a sister to me."
"I'm sure she was," Cayn answered, nodding in agreement. "But were you a sister to her?"
Miru was stricken. "That is cruel..."
Cayn felt himself faltering, but only for a moment. You chose Titus. And now you're choosing to conspire against the Seven Kingdoms. The old chill was upon him; it had carried him across battlefields with Blackfyre rebels, all the way back to the day when he found out Da had died fighting Daemon the Usurper.
"It would be best for you if you let Barba go," Cayn insisted. "It is useless to dwell upon that which cannot be undone."
He expected Miru to break down, but she suddenly seemed to find new strength. Her jaw clenched as she raised her chin to meet his gaze. "I came to you for help, Cayn. I have no grudge against you, and nor does Sadog. I know what happened between you and Titus."
Somehow, Cayn managed to keep his temper in check, and speak flatly whilst his insides began to churn fervently. "Do you, now?"
"He told us what happened," Miru insisted. "He has changed from what he once was. Just as I've changed!"
"Would you say that if you'd seen him that day?"
Miru faltered.
"You say he told you what happened. Does that include the words he screamed at me? 'Wretched traitor' he called me as he struck me across the face. 'Barbarous villain,' too. He knocked a tooth loose, did you know that? I doubt he knew that. He just threw me to the ground and laid Andrew's death on my doorstep!"
He waited a moment, taking in the details of Miru's aghast expression, then forced himself to speak gently once again. "I don't blame you, Miru. You were a scared little girl and you had nobody else. I understand that. Sadog too, I cannot blame him either."
A shaky sigh left Miru's body, but she seemed not to have any counter to his claims. "I'm sorry, Cayn. I'm so sorry for what you had to endure."
Cayn said nothing to that. He simply folded his arms. "Are you content in Braavos?"
"I was, aye," Miru answered quietly.
"You should put this behind you and go back," Cayn advised her in earnest. "This is no longer a place for you, and it is certainly no place for Titus anymore." That warning is more than you deserve. This is for Barba's sake.
"You need not tell me that," Miru muttered. She met his eyes again. "I suppose that there is nothing more to say?"
Cayn nodded curtly. "I suppose not."
Miru returned his nod, then sighed once more. "I suppose I ought to thank you for seeing me, Cayn. I can't imagine it was easy for you."
He did not answer that; he was too disconcerted as he watched her leave the hall. He stood where he was as her footsteps quickly faded out of earshot. His conversation with her had shaken him far worse than he'd thought possible. Therefore, he kept himself far away from Miru and the others on the following day. He simply took the skin of beasts and shadowed them as he'd been taught by the greatest Master of Whispers that the realm had ever seen, and would ever see.