Davos II
Davos Seaworth disembarked the trade cod, holding a crate. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of salt, spices, and exotic blossoms. He looked back on his plan to disguise himself as a tradesman with pride. The journey through the Stepstones was unusually hard; they had been stopped many times by ships from Myr and Tyrosh, halting their travels and inspecting the contents of the ship in the name of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters. He did not want to know what would have happened if he planned to journey as a Westerosi nobleman. The other thing that worried him was the toll one of the ships took. It was not a enormous sum—fifteen silver stags—but it was more than the two or three silvers that outlaws and pirates usually demanded off a trading cog. But it was only the last ship they had encountered who had demanded the toll, with the rest letting them go once they had examined the cog. One positive thing, though, was the absence of pirates and outlaws. Davos had also seen the burning remains of famous pirate ships slowly sinking to the bottom of the sea; once, he even saw a Greyjoy galley burning on the coast of one of the many islands inside the Stepstones.
Davos placed the crate on the stone floor and examined the city before him, the docks bustled with activity. Ships of all shapes and sizes jostled for space, their sails furled as sailors hurried about, unloading cargoes of silks, wines, and perfumes. The chatter of merchants and the cries of dockworkers blended with the calls of seagulls wheeling overhead. Lys was a city that seemed to sparkle, the docks were way more appealing than the capital. He turned his head and spotted the gate. The walls around the gate were made of smooth black stone, and the black stone walls were fused with a mountainside that surrounded the dock. Over those formidable walls, he knew, lay a world as dangerous and treacherous as the seas he had just crossed.
Davos saw the red woman right next to him, stoicly looking around her. ''Have you been to Lys before, Ser Davos?'' The red woman asked.
''Yes, m'lady. Stay close to me. If anyone asks, you are Mysari, and I am Crahan. We are here to bring you to the red temple.'' Davos said, his tone firm.
Melisandre smiled, she had a pretty smile. ''Worry not, sweet knight. Foraq knows that I am here, he will escort us.''
Davos frowned. ''Who is Foraq?''
''A colleague of mine, the High Priest at the Temple of the Lord of Light here in Lys.'' She said before walking past him towards the gate. Her red gown slightly touching his side. She even smells like red. The scent reminded him of many forges he had been to, of the way iron smelled when red-hot; the scent was smoke and blood.
Davos turned around and followed her lead, Even at the docks of King's Landing, you could smell the stench of manure, but not here in Lys. It smelled of flowers and spices. Once they arrived at the gate, the black walls towering over him by many yards, Davos spotted one of Lady Melisandre's red companions. The copper-skinned man had a clean, shaven head and wore a red robe. They conversed in a tongue that Davos did not understand, and he found himself looking around the city as he walked behind them. The city buzzed with activity, not so much unlike King's Landing. The streets were paved with pale, veined marble, warm underfoot, polished smooth by centuries of use. Flanking the thoroughfares were tall buildings of pink and white stone. Jasmine and orange trees, heavy with blossoms, lined the avenues, their fragrance mingling with the saltiness of the nearby sea. Shops and stalls displayed wares from across the known world: silks from Qarth, spices from Yi Ti, and finely wrought glass from Myr. The citizens of Lys moved with a relaxed grace, draped in flowing garments of silk that seemed to shimmer in the light. They spoke in soft, musical tones, their words often accompanied by the playful tinkling of jewelry and the rustling of fabric. Courtesans, their beauty as legendary as their skill in the arts of love, strolled through the streets with a practiced ease. All men and women of Lys looked extraordinary different, some copper-skinned with green hair and red eyes or pale-skinned with silver hair and violet eyes, others looked more Westerosi with brown hair and green or blue eyes.
''What is your business here, Ser Davos Seaworth?'' Davos heard a foreign voice; it was the red priest who spoke. Davos looked to Melisandre, who gave him a relaxed look.
''I'm here to meet a friend.'' Davos answered simply.
''I see, and who is this friend?''
''One I have not seen in quite some time.'' Davos answered dismissively, he did not trust this priest with too much information, despite the rare glare he received from the red woman.
Foraq laughed. ''Yes, I can imagine it being tough for a Westerosi to see a friend from Lys on a regular basis. It will be even more difficult for you in the future, I'm afraid.'' Foraq said, seeming to take his hint.
''Why would it be harder for me to see him in the future?'' Davos asked, one eyebrow raised.
It was now Foraq's turn to be vague and dismissive. ''You'll find out soon enough. You should go see your friend, Davos Seaworth.''
Davos nodded, and turned his eyes towards Melisandre. ''Do what our Lord asks of you, I will be in the Temple.'' The red woman spoke, her red eyes glowing as she said the last part.
Davos said no more and turned left on the next corner while they continued to walk forward towards the temple. He tried to pluck out memories from his few visits here in order to find the residence, the streets deeper in the city were narrow, and he bumped into a few men while trying to find his way. He stopped by a small shop, where he bought a bottle of wine from a merchant.
''Ten coppers,'' the merchant said.
''Ten?! For a wine bottle?'' Davos gasped.
The merchant murmured something in a foreign tongue before switching to the Common Tongue. ''War makes prices higher. Pay or walk.'' The merchant spoke, his voice rough. Davos sighed but paid the merchant the coppers, his purse less full than he expected.
He grabbed the bottle and proceeded to walk towards the grander residences. It took some time, but eventually Davos Seaworth found himself before a grand residence he had seen many times before. The estate was a riot of color and design—ivory walls adorned with delicate patchwork, window shutters painted a vibrant blue, and intricate iron gates flanked by statues of mermaids and sea serpents. Lush gardens surrounded the manor, filled with fragrant jasmine and bougainvillea that cascaded over walls and trellises. As he approached the entrance, a pair of slaves in finely embroidered clothing opened the massive doors with a flourish. The air was cool and perfumed inside, a welcome respite from the sun-soaked streets. The marble floors were polished to a mirror-like shimmer, and the walls were draped with tapestries depicting scenes of Lyseni maritime victories and legends.
''Davos Seaworth, Onion Knight! You honor me and my humble home with your presence!'' Salladhor Saan's voice boomed through the hall, rich with the melodious accent of Lys.
''Salladhor! I brought some wine.'' Davos said with a smile. ''It's been so long.''
''To long indeed, my friend.'' Salladhor Saan said, clasping Davos' hands warmly before clapping Davos back and leading him inside.
''Come, my friend. You are lucky my wives are gone for the day, let us drink to share tales. Lys has grown rather dull recently.'' Saan said.
They passed through opulent corridors, the walls lined with portraits of Saan's ancestors. Saathos Saan, who ruled as King of the Basilisk Isles during the reign of the Conciliator, and Samarro Saan, who was one of the infamous Band of Nine, the instigators of the War of the Ninepenny Kings when they tried to win the Iron Throne for Maelys I Blackfyre. They arrived at a stunning balcony overlooking the city. They sat down as a servant appeared with a tray of chilled wine and a platter of exotic fruits and cheeses.
Salladhor poured the wine into two glass cups, the red liquor glistering in the sun. They both grabbed their glass cups. ''To our friendship! And our old and famous endevours.'' Saan declared, his cup raised high as he proclaimed the toast.
Davos raised his glass and took a sip, savoring the wine's rich, heady flavor. They settled into their seats, and for a while, the conversation flowed easily. Salladhor regaled Davos with stories of his recent exploits, embellished with his usual flair. While Davos shared news of Westeros and spoke of his family, a faint shadow crossed his face as he mentioned his wife. ''In case you ever foolishly forget, I am never not thinking of you.''
Davos also got some news from Essos. The Triarchy had smashed Volantis in 'The Battle of the Charred Fields', driving them away from the disputed lands. That explains the Triarchy ships in the Stepstones, no one can contest their presence in the disputed lands now. He wondered if Stannis knew about the battle. Davos asked Salladhor why Tyroshi and Myrish ships were halting and inspecting trading ships at the Stepstones, but his friend did not truly know either but suggested that they might be looking for something or someone. Salladhor also claimed that the Triarchy's rapid expansion has made Pentos and Braavos nervous. And war had apparently broken out in Slavers Bay, between the cities of Meereen and Yunkai. Yunkai, under the rule of a newly ambitious ruler called Khalor Zhalareen, sought to assert dominance and bring about economic prosperity by implementing heavy tariffs and aggressive policies against Meereenese merchants and caravans, impacting the Meereense economy and starting a trade war.
Time flowed as the two friends reminisced about former jobs together and laughed about Saan's recent fight with his wife until, eventually, Salladhor Saan's eyes took on a keener edge. He leaned forward, his expression turning from the jovial companion to the shrewd captain and pirate.
''Now, Davos Seaworth. My friend. Tell me why you are truly here. Because I know you did not come all the way here to share stories and drink good wine.''
''You're right, Salla. I have come to ask for a favour. I need your help.'' Davos answered.
Salladhor sighed. ''I have a feeling this is not going to be good for Salladhor Saan.'' He laned back onto his seat and took a drink of his cup before putting it on the table. ''Very well, I'm listening.''
Then came the part of this endeavor that Davos had looked least forward to: the request. He highly doubted that Salladhor Saan would grant his favour without some kind of payment. He was his friend, but Davos knew that he valued his self-interest above all else. And once he had told him his reason for being here and why he needed this favour, Salladhor pondered some time before asking what he would gain from this. Then the negotiations followed. It took some time and a lot more drinking. But eventually, they struck a bargain. Davos was grateful; he knew that the High Council of the Triarchy was going to hold their session in Myr, and he had guessed right that the Saan family was going to attend this session. Davos needed him in order to spy on this session, learn of their motives, and report back to Stannis. They continued conversing some more after the bargain had been struck, and they decided to set sail a week from now.
''And we have to bring Lady Melisandre with us, she journeyed with me here.'' Davos said, suppressing a yawn as the night approached.
''Lady Melisandre? Who is this woman? Salladhor Saan has never heard of this name.''
''A red priestess of R'hllor, serving Stannis Baratheon.''
Salladhor raised an eyebrow. ''A red priestess? I thought you had your seven gods in Westeros. Not the red one.''
''She traveled to Dragonstone on her own, convinced that it was the place of smoke and salt amidst which Azor Ahai would be reborn. She has served Lord Stannis ever since.''
Salladhor frowned. ''I have never trusted those priests. All the priests in this world think their god is the right one, but Salladhor Saan knows for certain that the one true god is what is between a woman's legs.''
Davos chuckled. ''I am certain that is what most men think.''
Davos heard a womans call in the upper story, it was faint but enough for his friend to rise from his seat. ''My friend, you know where the guest chamber is. My wives are calling for me.'' Salladhor Saan spoke, his tone a mixture of contentment and fatigue.
''Goodnight, Salla.''
Sleep came easy to him, it had been a long day. But he was one step closer to completing his mission. The morning fast had been luxurious. Thin slices of cured meats and plates of fresh, exotic fruits like figs, pomegranates, and blood oranges, their sweet aromas mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread still warm from the oven. Golden honey and rich, creamy butter were offered alongside delicate pastries filled with almonds and sweetened cheese. He stuffed himself full and then decided to walk to the Temple of R'hllor, where the red woman resided. Salladhor had provided a translator for him; he needed to see the red woman and lay out the plans for their departure. He did trust the gods to supply the slave soldiers guarding the temple with the wisdom of the Westerosi tongue. And he did not want to be stuck outside the temple because he did not speak their tongue. The streets were busy, just as cramped as Flea Bottom, yet they were so different. Where Flea Bottom had the scent of pigsties and stables, Lys had the scent of plants and spices. Where the Street of Silk had the smell of wine, sweat, and recent pleasures, the pleasure houses he walked by here smelled of perfume and candle wax. His path went through a maze of vibrant markets and exotic pleasure houses. This is how a city should look and feel. As he neared the Temple of R'hllor, Davos noticed a growing crowd gathered around a marble platform that belonged to a bank. People were shouting and howling, the curiosity drew Davos Seaworth closer. A preacher stood atop the platform, dressed finely. His voice bellowed through the street, capturing the attention of more people. The preacher roared in the Valyrian tongue, with roars from the crowd following.
''What is he saying?'' Davos asked the translator behind him. The translator bristled, making him frown. But when the preacher started yelling again, the translator began whispering the translation behind him.
''Rejoice in the triumphs of the Triarchy! Our brave warriors have smashed the forces of Volantis, and soon they will sack the city, bringing its wealth and power to our great alliance!'' The preacher hollered. A roar of approval was followed by the crowd that had mustered, fists raised in unison, faces alight with shared pride.
''United with Tyrosh and Myr, we will ascend to unparalleled greatness! We shall dominate the seas and the land! The Free Cities and the false king of Westeros will tremble before our might!'' the preacher continued, his voice fierce and strong. ''No longer will we bow to the likes of Braavos and Pentos. We will crush them beneath our heels! The future belongs to us! To the Triarchy, to Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr united as one!''
As another cheer followed from the crowd, Davos slipped away from the unrest and continued his walk towards the temple. The streets of Lys, so beautiful and vibrant, now seemed to be tinged with a sense of impending conflict. The preacher's words echoed in his mind, making Davos feel a sense of urgency to get back to Westeros.
He reached the temple; it was enormous, twice as big as the Sept of Bealor, he guessed. It had numerous pillars, steps, buttresses, bridges, domes, and towers that flowed into one another, and its walls were colored in hues of red, yellow, gold, and orange. Thousands of slaves and men were walking and praying outside the temple. He was grateful for the decision to bring a translator with him, as none of the soldiers spoke the Common Tounge. Once the translator explained who he was and who he was looking for, one soldier made his way inside the temple. It took some time, but eventually the soldier came back with High Priest Foraq.
''Davos Seaworth, you are looking for priestess Melisandre, yes?'' Foraq asked, and Davos did not have time to answer him before he turned around and bid him to follow. Reluctantly, he dismissed Salla's translator and followed him inside. Inside the temple, it was like looking inside the red woman herself. Tapestries of different prophecies and saviors. The walls were painted red, with red and orange carpets covering the entire floor. He found Lady Melisandre having a heated discussion with numerous other priests and priestesses. The red woman glanced at Davos before continuing to discuss something with the other red dressed people.
''Azor Ahai. Have you heard of it?'' High priest Foraq asked.
''Yes, Lady Melisandre has preached of him numerous times at Dragonstone.'' Davos answered, glancing at Foraq.
''Melisandre is not a Lady of Westeros, Davos Seaworth.'' Foraq said, amused. Davos did not respond, instead remaining focused on the heated discussion. Trying to figure out what they were talking about.
''She claims that Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai, that he is the one who will bring the dawn and beat back the darkness. What do you think?'' Foraq asked.
''Stannis is a natural-born leader, a good and just man. And I owe everything I have to him.'' Davos answered calmly.
''But you do not believe him to be the one?''
''I do not presume to know anything about Azor Ahai or your prophecies. I'm a follower of the Seven Who Are One. I wouldn't even know what to look for.''
''She seems rather convinced on the matter.'' Foraq pushed.
''I have no doubt that she is, but I do not trust prophecies. I trust actions.'' Davos said, his tone firm. ''Tell her that I wish to speak with her once they are done preaching to each other.''
Foraq smirked. ''Of course. You are welcome to stay inside the temple in the meantime.''
Davos sighed but respectfully waited for the priests to finish their discussion and preaching. He did not like anything about this temple, nor did he like the red priests, who seemed so smug and all-knowing. But soon they would be out of this temple, out of Lys, and one step closer to home.