ARYA
The Gate of the Gods loomed out of the window, the Seven Pointed Star carved into its red stone from its base to its top. Redcloaks walked between its two towers, Lannister men, while the day's traffic began to come into the city through its high arch. It was barely past sunrise, and yet carts with grainbags and barrels piled high were being driven by oxen with urgency.
Arya watched from the tiny glass panes of the window, puzzled by this. The previous day, she had watched whole families leave the city, the handcarts carrying their possessions. Yoren had explained before that food can run out in a siege, and that made sense. But she knew her brother. Robb would not wait to starve the city into giving back Father and Sansa. He would attack. So why do they stuff food in like it will matter?
Eventually, the clatter and flurry of movement around her caught her eyes. Yoren had thirty men, most of them from the cells. Arya knew not to interact with them, but it was hard when fully half their number were ransacking the Watch's two rooms. Crossbows, bolts, slightly rusty swords and spears were coming out of all sorts of nooks and crannies; reserves for the Watch, Yoren said.
Below the window, the other half of the men were tending to the wagons and horses; these were just as loaded down as the ones coming in through the gates, with all sorts of things for the Wall.
Arya even had a donkey. She had objected to this to Yoren. She was a perfectly fine rider, a horse would have been better. He simply said to accept the 'noble steed' for what he was, or ride in the cart like a child. She fumed and accepted the donkey after all.
By now, she had three crossbows over her shoulders and two bags of quarrels for shooting, holding them until the search was done.
"Right, that's all of it," Yoren announced soon after, "Never let it be said the Watch is unprepared to fight for its recruits. Off with us." He quickly waved the men and boys out of the rooms. Arya followed along, second to last before Yoren himself. They piled down the narrow stairs, their new weapons knocking against the wood panelling as they took each step.
"Oi!" shouted the inn lady, "Watch what y'er doin'!" She was a large woman both across her waist and in height, and she was missing one of her front teeth, which caused her voice to whistle and lisp on certain words. The main room of the inn was empty; too early for breakfast for most. Yoren had already arranged bowls of proper porridge for all an hour before daylight.
"Apologies, my lady," the Nightswatchman said. Arya could hear his smile in his voice, "It'll be a while before I'm back. You can rent the rooms out 'til then."
The lady crossed her arms. "You've kept that room for seven years," she said, "What's goin' on? You not goin' to fight them Starks, are you?"
Yoren laughed now, as he and Arya both made it to the bottom of the stairs. "We take no part in the wars of the realm," he said, "There's plenty of fighting to be done at the Wall, these days. I'll settle the amount now." He shouted to the others. "Pack that onto the wagons. You too, boy!"
Arya did as she was told and followed the men out of the inn, as Yoren took up his coinpurse to pay for the night spent there. The weapons were quickly put out of sight under bundles and blankets; the city would have need of such things soon enough, so the command was to make sure the Lannisters or Goldcloaks didn't see them.
She passed by the cage-wagon with the most dangerous prisoners, staring at them as she walked by; the hooded man, the noseless man and the bald man with teeth that looked like the tips of sharpened branches. All three were clapped in irons. They paid her no mind, this time.
She found the wagon her donkey was hitched to and hauled the crossbows onto the back, before dumping the quarrels on top and shoving a large bale of sourleaf on top of it all. Thinking that was good enough, she turned to get onto her 'noble steed'.
"Look!" shouted a boy on another donkey, pointing off deeper into the city. Arya almost didn't look at all; the boy's arm and hand was coloured a patchy green. Her nose wrinkled at why that might be, but the sound of horse shoes and boots on the cobblestones soon tore her eyes away from him anyway.
A large group of men was being led in chains down the street from Cobbler's Square, scattering the carts coming in from the gate. Hundreds carrying sacks on their backs, escorted by a hundred gold cloaks. Arya recognised the man leading the way on horseback; it was Janos Slynt, the man that had helped kill her father's men. Rage boiled up in her, and her hand went for Needle. The pointy end for him! She ground her teeth when she saw no way to approach without being shot down by the mounted crossbowmen riding along with him.
"What's all this then!" called Yoren from the doorway of the inn to the man, ducking under the Broken Anvil sign to do it, "Commander Slynt?"
The murderer's jowls spread as a smile went on his face. "It's Lord Slynt now, Yoren of Castle Black. I bring recruits for you."
Yoren's eyes narrowed. "Lord Stark already emptied the cells for me. What are these?"
"A gift from the new Hand of the King," Slynt laughed, "Even to the Watch, Lannister generosity outstrips that of the Starks."
Arya bit back a retort, and stumbled in the cart. Her foot dropped between the bales, the tips of her toes hitting the side of a crossbow. She ducked down and behind the sourleaf, pulled out one of the weapons. Angling to pull the string back with both her hands, she found it impossible to get even half-way to the little metal nub that would hold it.
"Doesn't answer where they come from or who they are," Yoren called back after a minute, "I can't feed them." Arya looked up again, finding the Goldcloak directly above Yoren.
'Lord' Slynt's smile had died. "We've provided them with enough food to make it to the Riverlands," he said, "After that, you can call upon your northern friends for a meal or two. I hear it's them with the wilding problem and the wight problem, though I'd not believe about walking dead men if Lord Lannister hadn't seen one himself."
Arya's boiling hatred of the man went away for a moment, like the water of it had been dumped out of the cauldron. Walking dead men? The man was mad.
"So you rounded up men to send to us?" Yoren asked, "What, so you don't have to feed them?"
Slynt leaned a little out of his saddle. "The Lord Hand wisely had us round up all the known thieves," he said, "Lord Lannister says we need every worthy man to defend the walls, which he won't have if the food's all been stolen. So here they are, near two hundred who took the Wall over the noose. Take them or they'll be hung over the gate in batches."
Yoren scowled up at the man, but did not take long to decide. "Strike off their chains."
"Only once they're through," Slynt smirked, "No point freeing them here, they'd just run off down an alley."
Her purpose coming back to her and the heat of hatred seeming to turn to winter's touch, Arya pulled the crossbow's string one last time with all her might. Putting her back and legs into it. At last, it made it to the notch, and she grabbed a bolt to put onto it.
By the time she did and freed it from underneath the bale, it was too late. Lord Slynt was riding off, leaving his men to begin shoving the prisoners towards the Gate of the Gods. She hissed through her teeth in frustration. So close!
"What are you doing boy!" boomed a voice beside her. Yoren grabbed the crossbow, snatching the bolt off of it at the same time.
"He killed my father's men!" she said, not caring a jot that the green-armed boy was listening.
"He's killed a great many more fathers," Yoren replied angrily, "And he'll not die to the likes of you, certainly not while I stand to be beheaded for it! Get on your donkey, we're leaving."
The red comet came an hour after they left King's Landing.
One moment, the two hundred thieves were having their chains struck off by the big blacksmith boy called The Bull for his bull-head helmet. Yoren recorded their names into his leather-bound ledger, finding out how much food each man had been given and asking that they wait until after he had spoken to try slinking off.
The next, all eyes turned upwards. The blue was streaked, like the gods had taken a sword and slit the skin of the sky. Where the wound began was a dark blood red, and it tailed off into a core of the same colour but trailing lighter red and even orange at the edges. Like the blood was smeared, Arya thought, thinking of the stableboy she had killed when escaping the Red Keep.
It took Yoren shouting for whole minutes to return everyone else to the task at hand; they were still far too close to King's Landing. "Get a move on!" the black brother roared, "You want to be standing around here when the northern outriders come to put the city to siege?! What'd you think they'd make of us? They'd not even ask who we are before filling us full of bolts!"
The threat of being shot to death got the men back to the task at hand, though most glanced up at the comet every moment they thought they could spare. Arya bored quickly of looking, at least when she couldn't talk to anyone about it.
Soon, there were a great many strange men freely walking around. Rough men, as rough as Yoren himself easily. That was worth more notice, the train of wagons felt full of danger now. Even the boys that had originally been with Yoren had quieted, stopped their cruelties and stayed together with her.
After a while, all the chains were removed and sent back to the city with the goldcloaks that had come along, and Yoren stood up on the tallest wagon.
The men stopped their chatter and gathered around it to listen, having listened to his plea to stay to hear him.
"My name is Yoren," he said, "In case the cloak and the fact you're all here didn't make it clear, I'm the wandering crow sent to recruit from the Crownlands and all places in between it and the Wall."
"Aye, we know!" said one man.
"You've been sent here by Lord Lannister for your crimes."
"What crimes?!" another shouted, "I've not even had a trial!" Arya had to cover her ears as one man's shout became two hundred's. Their faces turned beet red and fists curled. Danger seeming even more close, Arya wanted to nudge her donkey and ride away as fast as it could carry her. The Bull stopped her, grabbing her reins.
"Let go!" she said.
"You'll die out there," he replied simply, "Wait."
It took some time for Yoren to be able to calm the mob down.
"I know you've been wronged!" he continued when he had just enough quiet to be heard, "I'll not compel you to follow me, but you can't go back to the city." He pointed up at the comet. "That is a bad sign. The Wall will have great need soon. I can't offer you riches, but I can offer you a place where you can live and die as men."
"And wha' if we don't want to die freezin' our arses off on your wall?!" called someone.
"Then don't," Yoren responded, "But you're like as not to be shot or hung if you go off on your own. Thieves and those taken for thieves don't get trials outside city walls either, they get their hands hacked off and their necks stretched."
"Some o' us would take that chance."
"Aye, and some of you will die for it," Yoren said, "Come with me, at least until we reach the Riverlands. The Night's Watch is respected by House Stark. When we meet the northern host, then those of you that Lord Slynt gave over can choose their next path. As you say, you've not had trials. As long as you do no harm there's no reason for the Starks or rivermen to harm you as long as I say so.
The mob murmured, but seemed to agree. Faces calmed, hands unclenched, arms crossed. Arya's need to ride as far as she could slipped away.
"Good," Yoren said, "Now we've got a good amount of daylight left today, we're going to keep marching. Anyone has a problem with that, leave now. Elsewise, you follow my orders until we reach Harrenhal or I take your head."
About two dozen or so men did leave, picking their packs and hurrying away in the direction of the Blackwater. Father told me about such men, Arya thought, They'll be bandits by moon's end. She had been well warned to not go into the Wolfswood alone. Beyond the river, the Kingswood loomed, visible even now.
The rest of the day was taken up with the ride north. The men took turns riding in the wagons, even sitting on top of the cage wagon. The pace was good even though most had to walk most of the time. But as the evening closed in, the men began to complain and Arya was afraid someone would take her donkey from her.
It was a relief when Yoren finally told them all to make camp.
"It'll be the last time we're on the Kingsroad," he declared to one group of men nearby Arya, "It's not safe to stand in the way of an invading host, so we'll slide off towards the God's Eye. We'll set a watch too. No knowing how many Lannister deserters are roaming about, though they'd be fools to attack a group of our size."
He seemed to repeat this to other groups, though Arya only half-heard him. The small group of men that had agreed to join the Watch for reasons other than avoiding the noose had armed themselves too, the weapons and padded tunics taken from the inn put to use. By then, the rest of the men had set about lighting fires and setting snares, hoping to get meat to eat the following morning. Arya and the boys on donkeys were taken aside by Yoren quickly.
"I need you lot to do me a favour," he said, "The wagons need to be watched. There's plenty in there that'd fetch a fine price, and these don't have enough food anyway. The smart ones will've figured it out by now. I can't do it and I can't spare any of the volunteers to do it either, have to keep this camp from turning bloody."
The wandering crow jabbed a finger into the Bull's chest. "You're in charge, Gendry," he said, before looking to Arya and the others, "The rest of you, help him. Sit on the wagons, shout nice and loud if anyone gets near 'em. If anyone gets near the cage, don't shout, send someone running for me. Last thing we need is some friend of theirs springing them when we're so close to the city."
Gendry was the name of the Bull, it seemed. The boys seemed happy to help and were properly vigilant in their new duty, save the green-armed one called Lommy. Arya and he lounged about on the wagon closest the cage, assigned to watch it. Neither liked each other or the three men within the cage wagon. Arya quickly felt bored, and laid flat on the wagon's front seat to sleep. I'll wake early, so no one sees me piss.
She found it hard to close her eyes. For what seemed like hours, she tossed and turned, watching this way and that with vague attention as it got darker and darker.
As twilight was turning to night, Lommy's green arm came down and slapped her on the chest as she turned onto her back. Arya shot up, ready to hit him. A green hand shoved itself over her mouth. Revolted, she twisted, trying to bite it.
"Quiet!" Lommy whispered, "Look!" He took the hand away and pointed.
There were people by the cage wagon, hooded. They seemed to be circling it, looking at who was inside but making no move to free them. The ones called Rorge and Biter were asleep already, laying on their sides. They'd have been loud if they had know they had watchers. The other one simply paid no mind.
It was strange, Arya decided, too strange not to see what they were doing. "Go get Yoren," she told Lommy, "Don't tell Gendry. He still needs to guard the other wagons."
"You go get Yoren!" he complained back, "Why should I be the one to get Yoren?"
Pulling Needle from her belt, Arya cocked an eyebrow in challenge to him. I've killed a bigger boy than you already, she wanted to say, though the horror of that memory stopped her speaking the words.
Not having a blade of his own, Lommy goggled and jumped off the wagon, ducking away as he moved to find Yoren. As soon as he was gone, Arya got off the wagon herself. Imagining herself one of the cats she had chased in the Red Keep, she moved forward to the cage. It wasn't hard to time her movement to when the three strangers wouldn't be able to see her, and the darkness was enough to cloak her anyway.
Only the nameless criminal in the cage noticed her as she ducked by one of the wheels. His hood moved and revealed a handsome man with long hair, coloured half red and half grey. The man's expression was not unkind, which prevented Arya retreating. She almost didn't see the three strangers move once more, towards her side of the wagon.
The handsome man spoke suddenly but quietly in a tongue Arya recognised as Valyrian, the sort that ordinary Essosi spoke. He directed his words at the strangers, who stopped moving to where they could have seen her and instead to where they could face him. The other two in the cage did not stir from their sleep.
One of the three strangers took down their hood, revealing a soft face with balding hair that Arya would have associated with a rich merchant or well-liked servant rather than a thief. Lord Varys, she shuddered, That's who he's like. It wasn't the Spider, this man was far too tall, but the mere thought made her want to stab him.
The handsome man in the cage and the soft man outside exchanged an entire conversation, still in Valyrian. Arya could understand none of it, she hadn't even begun High Valyrian lessons like Robb and Theon had. She looked under the next wagon, trying to see if Lommy was bringing Yoren yet. There was a noise in the cart.
The soft man's face was pressed up against the bars, the handsome man was pulling him by the scruff of his neck but his smile was still there. The other two strangers were reaching into their cloaks.
It's not fair! Arya's mind shouted. Before she could think about it enough, she jumped up and around the front of the wagon. "Hey!" she shouted, "Get away from there!"
The strangers turned their heads, the hoods no longer throwing shadow on their faces. One was thin and gaunt, much more like a thief of imagination. The other was a woman, unremarkable like a laundry lady or seamtress! But their eyes were narrow and cruel, it was no mystery what they thought of the interruption.
Arya's jaw worked, but no words came out. The handsome man released the third, almost throwing him to the ground. He was helped up, and a question was asked. They're deciding what to do about me!
At last, Arya's fingers signalled she was still holding Needle. The feeling of the weapon in her hand restored her courage. "You're not allowed by the wagons!" she declared finally, "I've already sent for Yoren and his men! Go!"
That worked like magic. The soft man threw up his hood again, and all three of the strangers dispersed, moving off in different directions like they had urgent business each way. Arya blinked and they were gone, moving off into the gloom or the crowds around the campfires.
"A girl was unwise," the handsome man said, turning his head just enough out of the firelight, "That needle would not have saved her."
Arya ballooned with indignation. "You should be saying thank you," she said, pointing with her sword, "Three against one, and you're in a cage without a weapon."
"Or so it seems?" the man said, just a hint of amusement in his tone.
Afraid of being overheard, she looked around again, trying to see if any of the strangers had stayed and hid. She didn't see any. "Who are they?" Arya asked, "Do they know you?"
The handsome man's head tilted. "Another man thought he knew this face," he said, "A girl must stay away, for this man and others know her face too now. They are killers."
"Like you?"
Arya slapped her hand over her mouth, regretting what she had said instantly.
The handsome man's lip curled. "A man is not the same as those," he said, "Another man was displeased by this. But it matters no more. There is no benefit to confrontation, now that a girl has seen."
Arya's head was muddled. A man, another man, a girl… What is he saying?
"A girl should run along," the handsome man said, "The man in black is coming. A girl should tell what she saw, but not who she saw, yes?"
There was a call from behind; Yoren was approaching with five men carrying spears. Lommy was running alongside, his shorter legs making it harder for him to keep up. Arya spared one last glance at the man in the cage, before the wandering crow finally arrived.
"What's all this?" Yoren asked, before he turned to Lommy, "Where are the men?"
"They left," Arya said, "They were talking to that one, I told them to go away, they went."
Yoren frowned, and looked at the men in the cage. "You there, what were they saying?"
The handsome man gave a dismissive wave. "They thought a man was responsible for the killing of their brother," he said, "They were wrong."
Arya flinched. Is that true? She knew all the men in the cage were accused of murder, but were the others really the family of the handsome man's victim? She strained to remember their faces again, trying to recall if they looked alike at all. In the dark it was hard to tell.
The wandering crow stared at the man, then without warning, poked the head of the one called the Biter, sleeping on his side. Biter did not respond, save to snore softly.
"What's wrong with him?" Yoren asked.
"Sleeping," the handsome man shrugged.
"Like the dead," Yoren growled, "Like they've been poisoned with something."
"That's why they were circling," Arya thought aloud, "They were making the other two stay asleep?"
Yoren turned to her. "Did you get a good look at their faces?"
Her throat closing, she remembered the handsome man's words. "No," she lied sourly, "They wore hoods."
There was no response to that. Yoren stared some more at the caged men for a while, as if trying to work it out. There were shouts from elsewhere in the camp; a fight. Without a second thought, the black brother was turning on his heel and waving his men to follow. Lommy went with them, glancing back at the cage, seemingly afraid of the one man still awake in there.
For some reason, Arya was relieved. She didn't want Yoren to know what had really happened, though she didn't know why.
"A girl is wise," the man said, "Wiser than her years. She saved many lives through her lie."
"A girl is tired," Arya replied, her mood turning bad, "A girl will sleep." She stomped off back towards the wagon where Gendry was, deciding she had enough guard duty for the night.
"See?" came the reply, "Wise."