Chapter 24: Pleasure and Pain

They were getting close to home. Everyone could feel it. None of them had guessed how homesick they would all become. Even the ironborn felt it. They all wanted to go home. But there was a fundamental truth none of them could escape. They couldn't make the wind blow, not even with magic. Being becalmed was frustrating. Their ships could ride even the smallest breeze. But their ships had no oars. For the first, and only, time during the voyage the ironborn cursed the ships they had instead of their standard longships.

By the time they were moving again they were dangerously short of food. Fortunately, they were close to Lys. Or perhaps it wasn't so fortunate.

Jake stomped around the deck. He had refused to speak to the queen for days. He believed the destruction of Volantis had been totally unnecessary and was now doing his best to ignore her. She for her part wasn't interested in his peek. There were times she wanted to toss him into the ocean, but she knew she'd probably need him at some point.

Brienne, who was only slightly less annoying, approached her as she stared past the bow. "Are you sure it's wise to get provisions from Lys?"

"Afraid they'll poison you?" Arya didn't need reminding of what happened to the Cannibal.

Brienne was nagging and she knew it. She took several deep breaths before continuing. "I'm just thinking of the wisest way to get us home."

"I'm not looking for the wisest way. We've had plenty of evidence that the free cities plan to attack us. We still serve our kingdom. And our king."

Brienne certainly wasn't going to argue with that. So, she left Arya to her thoughts, which is what Arya had wanted in the first place.

What they found when the fleet finally limped up to Lys came as a complete surprise to everyone. The harbor of Lys, one of the largest in the world, had been completely blocked off. Somehow having gotten word of their arrival, the people of Lys had lined up every ship they could get hold of and closed off the harbor with them.

Arya and her Queensguards stood on the deck staring in dumfounded disbelief. Joella quipped, "I guess they don't want us coming in." The others glared at her, and she sheepishly shut her mouth.

Asha, followed by Crackjaw, pushed her way up next to Arya. "We can burn them out easily enough. We still have plenty of wildfire." This was an understatement. They had used very little of the supply they'd brought with them.

"No!" Arya spoke with surprising forcefulness.

"But…"

"No!" She moved to the bow, forcing her Queensguards to shift out of the way. "We are the visitors. We have no more right to force our way in than any other visitor has."

This was a strange thing to say to ironborn. Brienne almost rolled her eyes. Asha crossed her arms in annoyance. "Has that pup maester turned your head?" She had never liked Jake, and she had never tried to hide it.

Brienne thought Arya might strike her for a second. "I don't like killing, unlike you." Asha did not dispute this. "We would never allow anyone to just tromp into one of our cities. We can hardly do the same to others. I'm trying to put a stop to this conflict." For a second, they all thought she would break down in tears.

Asha was not sympathetic. "You put a stop to it by burning it out. Didn't your sister learn that lesson?"

This only made Arya angry. "My sister was giving people a chance to change!" She didn't mention that her opinion at the time was the same as Asha's was now.

Asha barked a laugh. "Change? You know who you're talking about?"

Arya felt her face flush. It made her angry that Asha was throwing her own thoughts back at her. Instead of blowing her top she said, "I'll go speak to them myself. While I'm gone, send men to the mainland to hunt down supplies for us. Don't kill people. We're here to trade, not fight battles."

Asha looked sour but didn't argue.

Above them, Snowflake blew past heading for the city. The dragon was flying high and fast. They watched the dragon circle the city, well out of range of any would-be heroes who might get ideas into their heads. Nobody said anything. Arya couldn't help smiling with pride.

Snowflake left off her taunting and bee-lined for the fleet. This time she alighted on the ocean some distance away. Brienne couldn't help but wonder at how fast it had grown. She judged Snowflake might even be the largest of the dragons now, even though she'd always been the smallest. Arya affectionately cuddled her beast, which made the others cringe. She then leapt onto its back. Snowflake had the decency this time not to launch itself next to the ship. She swam a good distance away before taking to the sky.

Asha saddled over to Brienne. "What's she planning?"

Brienne shrugged. "I have no idea."

Arya flew Snowflake high over the city. It was both a challenge and play. The spectacle of the city in the middle of the sea was a reminder of a world long gone. The architecture was pure Valyrian, all white marble and arches. Lys was a sizable city, much larger than she'd imagined. It covered the entirety of the island it was on. The city walls went right to the water's edge. It also included huge parks and giant fountains. In fact, they were the largest fountains she had ever seen.

She flew low over the city to find a landing space. Half expecting arrows to come flying in her direction, she was shocked to see the walls surrounding the city were deserted. They were forced to circle around because all the ground seemed covered by trees and walkways and gardens and such. Seeing nowhere to land without crushing something underfoot, Arya picked a garden that looked like it belonged to a palace. Fruit trees of many varieties went flying and flowers of every description rained down on the surrounding residences.

As Arya hopped down off her dragon she was expecting to be greeted by a squad of guards. Instead, a single angry majordomo came storming up to her. He was, quite obviously, a eunuch and apparently fearless because he gave Snowflake not so much as a glance.

"How dare you!" the man squeaked in a very girlish voice. He was surprisingly tall, for his chubbiness made him look diminutive. "This is the House of Gilded Rose Petals, and I demand you get your filthy beast away from here!"

Normally, Arya would have put her sword to his face for insulting her dragon. But his manner and voice made her want to laugh instead. It took a moment for her to understand what he had just said. "This is a pillow house?"

The man stiffened in outrage, his nostrils flaring. "You dare! This is the greatest pleasure house in Lys. Only the most respectable clientele are allowed here." His tone made it clear that she did not fit that description.

Arya's amusement was rapidly waning. "I go where I please." Her hand drifted to her sword hilt.

"Ruffian!" he screamed, clutching at his bosom. This time she did laugh. "Guards! Guards!"

He looked around, but no one appeared. "It seems they have more sense than you."

He bit his knuckles in a dramatically overacted demonstration. "Oh, you brute!"

Arya was seriously reconsidering her pledge not to kill anyone when a young, handsome man walked out of the building. His shirt was open, and he was busy tightening his belt, no doubt having been enjoying the pleasures of the house. He was very tall and very blond, showing his clear Valyrian blood, and his body was well muscled. This man was no softy. A warrior and a sailor if the callouses on his hands were any indication.

"Greetings queen of Westeros," he said in perfect Westerosi. "I am Strut Tatore, one of the magisters of this fine city."

"Are you the First Magister?"

"Oh no, dear lady. I am quite low on the staircase. But I am willing to greet you as no one else will."

"No one will greet me? Why? Am I not welcome?"

"Oh, definitely not. I would have thought our closed off harbor would have made that clear."

Arya was beginning to think his plain-spoken bluntness was intended as a cover for rudeness. "You think you can keep me out?"

He barked a laugh. "Not at all. Not so long as you have that smelly beast with you."

Now she knew he was being rude. "The people here don't know when to stop poking a hornet's nest."

"You are implying something?" He seemed genuinely confused. But she wasn't fooled. "My apologies." He made a magnificent bow, but she still wasn't fooled. "Welcome to Lys. On behalf of the magisters, allow me to be your guide."

"That would be lovely."

Strut turned and headed back into the brothel. The eunuch was quick to move to his side. The sexless man had his nose so high in the air it was as if he were staring at the sky. The two walked so fast Arya had to half run to catch up to them. She also had to walk at Strut's left and was sorely tempted to stab them both over the insult.

The house had no door. Or windows. Instead, only thick pillars held up the roof on three sides while the floor of the interior was a shallow bowl. Doors led further into the building through the one wall the amphitheater had.

The inside of the house matched the outside in opulence. The grand room they entered was larger than the interior of the Sept of Baelor. Low couches were scattered on several daises. Men and women in various states of undress lazed all around them. At first Arya assumed the men were all clients, but on seeing cosmetics many of them had, she realized that they were also whores. She'd heard rumors of men and boys working as courtesans in the Free Cities, but she hadn't believed them.

Something else she noticed was that these whores made no effort to pretend to be friendly. They looked at her with open disgust in their eyes.

"This is the first time on this voyage that I've seen such open hostility."

"You're surprised?" He never turned to look at her. "You have destroyed cities all along your voyage."

Arya felt her temper slipping. "I have avoided fighting throughout my voyage. It is people like you that forced me to fight."

"People like me?" He was genuinely shocked. "I have shown you no hostility. Are you seeking to absolve yourself?"

In anger she snapped, "Insult me again and I will cut out your tongue!"

"You forget yourself queen. You don't rule here."

Snowflake roared through the open entrance. Screaming, the whores fled or hid themselves. From the smell the eunuch had soiled himself. Snowflake couldn't fit inside the room, but she could put her head inside it. "Who rules here?" Arya asked quietly.

Strut had turned pale. "My apologies." He bowed again.

"Magister, I am trying very hard not to treat you as an enemy. You are making it very difficult."

"I understand. But you must understand that your actions have not made you any friends. Destroying Qarth, regardless of how much they deserved it, has caused great hardship throughout the free cities."

"I do understand." Her frustration was showing. "They gave me no choice! They murdered one of my Queensguards."

He had the decency to look ashamed. "That was regretful. There are those of us who do not see any value in conflict with your kingdom. But you must understand. There are those who don't want to listen. Your opposition to slavery threatens to ruin us all."

"You use that word a lot, but you don't seem to have any. Slavery is deeply offensive to us. We believe in the freedom of all people."

"Even that of your small folk?"

This come-back might have been more effective before the Long Night. Now it only made her mad. "I'm sure you are aware of the laws my sister has implemented. We have given our small folk rights they have never had. What have you done?"

He had no answer to this. Instead, he invited her to tour the city with him.

Jon was showing his impatience again. He never had much tolerance for these audiences. A delegation of high born stood before him. The Faith was causing trouble again and they were haranguing him into fixing their problem for them. It was perhaps naive of him to assume he had mended his relationship with the Faith. But the least they could do was to deal with this issue on their own without bothering him.

Lord Middlebury was droning on. Why he had been chosen to be their spokesmen only the Father knew. The man, whose only distinguishing feature was his ample girth, had all the charisma of one of the hogs he was so proud of. Jon was bored and didn't bother to hide it.

"Your grace!" Middlebury suddenly said sharply. "I would hope you would at least pay attention to what I am saying."

Jon eyes bored into him. He didn't speak, merely stared until the silence became uncomfortable. Middlebury cleared his throat a couple of times and hoped fervently that there was some way to turn invisible. The twenty or so other lords also looked uncomfortable in the silence.

Jon finally opened his mouth. "This is a problem you should handle yourselves." He had already told them this, but they were nothing if not stubborn.

"Your grace, you took away all our banners." This was also something that had been said. Far too often.

"You mean they refuse to do what you want."

The high born never liked to be reminded that they no longer had the power they'd once had. "You made it so that we must come begging to you to enforce our rights!" Middlebury was clearly losing his temper.

"Rights?" Jon could lose his temper too and he hadn't changed that much since donning the crown. "When the Faith supported your domination of the small folk you had no difficulty in enforcing their will. Now that they support the small folk against you, you want me to smash them for you."

Middlebury looked uncomfortable again, but he wasn't willing to back down. "The septs cannot demand the small folk give them their labor but deny us the same."

On this Jon agreed with him.

The door suddenly opened and the head of Jon's Kingsguard walked in. It was Folsom, the acting Lord Commander. "Your Grace, a… man requests to speak."

Jon could see that for himself for the 'man' had followed him in. "Septum Birch!" the man yelled. He could be a septum, Jon thought. Kind of. His clothes were rags, marking him as an ex-Sparrow from when that group existed. This was only amplified by his stringy and underfed appearance. His hair was wild and unkempt, and far too long. He was also tall, though not the height of Folsom.

The Lord Commander looked down at the smelly reprobate and said nothing.

Without asking permission Septum Birch advanced toward Jon. "Your Grace-"

A low growl cut him off. From behind Jon's throne Ghost padded into the room. Seating himself next to Jon his head easily topped that of the king.

Birch had the sense to stop but didn't return to his place. "Your Grace…"

Jon interrupted, "What are you doing here?"

"I was told that the lords were coming to speak to you."

"And you decided to join them without being invited?"

The septum was quickly losing his fear of the direwolf. "I have as much right to speak as they!"

"Do not yell at me."

Folsom moved quickly to grab Birch's arm. Birch angrily pulled free. Before the Lord Commander could act again Birch bowed his head to Jon. "My apologies, your grace."

Jon nodded. "You do indeed have as much right as anyone to have your grievances heard. But you should still practice basic politeness."

"Once again, I apologize. I was not raised in a castle among the high born. I am but a crofter's son and spent my childhood feeding pigs."

The allusion was not lost on Jon. He almost smiled. "I was highborn, but I didn't enjoy it." This got some chuckles. "What I am interested in now is your view of the matter. Please be thorough and try not to yell."

There was some more laughter before Birch responded. The septum's smile was sheepish. "I do allow my enthusiasm to get the better of me. I will be happy to explain."

"To lie you mean!" Middlebury burst out. A host of angry voices agreed with him.

A loud growl silenced them. Jon spoke in a very calm voice, almost too quiet to be heard. "I will be the judge of that."

Birch smiled at Middlebury with an almost insane glee. "I'm sure we can trust the king to know what is right."

"Of that there is no doubt." Jon's tone was still placid. But none of them doubted the threat he implied. Ghost showed his teeth to insure they got the point.

Birch, surprisingly enough, seemed unintimidated by the great wolf. "I swear upon the Father and the Mother that everything I say is truth." Jon waved that off. It was an unnecessary oath, but the scrawny man felt the need to make a point. "Three moons past I went to the people of Mayfarm…"

"Mayfarm?" Jon had never heard of it.

"Eh… uh… a small hamlet your grace. It is home to but a few dozen families."

"Continue."

"I had heard they did not have septum of their own. So, I took it upon myself to grant them relief."

"You mean you decided to take it!" interrupted Middlebury. The other lords yelled in agreement.

"I take it you objected," Jon said.

His voice silenced them. "Mayfarm is part of my lands, your grace."

Birch wasn't about to let Middlebury go unchallenged. "His grace stripped the high born of their estates."

"I do not give up claim to my land!"

This was the wrong thing to say. There was mumbling from the spectators in the hall. Jon stared at him unblinking.

Realizing too late that he was challenging the authority of the king, he hastened to add. "I… of course I follow all his grace's laws."

Jon's voice hinted at restrained fury. "I think perhaps I have been too indulgent. What say I send Ser Davos to audit your estates m'lord."

Middlebury paled noticeably. "That will not be necessary."

"That is for his grace to decide," said Folsom with unnecessary force.

"Peace Lord Commander. I will give due consideration to the subject later. That, Lord Middlebury, I promise you." His tone made it clear he would not forget. "At this moment we are hearing the septum's account of this dispute."

"Thank you, your grace." Birch bowed to him. "The village had no sept of its own, depending on travelling septums to give them spiritual care. I asked…"

"Your ordered!" Middlebury interrupted again.

"I asked…"

"You commanded! You told them the Seven would punish them if they failed to obey!"

Jon lost his sympathy for the scarecrow. "Did you?"

"His grace's law requires that all folk must be paid for their work!" Middlebury didn't bother to mention that he and his companions opposed this requirement.

"Be silent lord. I can ask my own questions."

Birch drew himself up in defiance. "The small folk gave their labor of their own free will. As I am sure your grace already knows. All septs, save those made for lords, should always be constructed by the free will of the folk who plan on using it."

"Did you threaten them?"

He was outraged. "I merely pointed out to them the Seven does not look kindly on those of the true faith who fail to perform their duty."

"Duty?!" Middlebury snorted. "What of their duty to their lord."

Jon's explosive temper was never easy for him to suppress. "I am their lord!"

His outburst rocked them all back. He turned back to Birch. "Did you pay them?"

Birch cleared his throat. "I believe I've already said…"

"In other words, no."

"Your grace…" In his earnestness he unwisely stepped toward Jon and drew a hostile growl from Ghost. "This is but a small sept. Hardly large enough to hold fifty souls. It is a work of love from the people of Mayfarm. Their gift to the Seven. Surely, they are permitted to make for themselves a place of worship."

"What the people of Mayfarm wish to use their time for is entirely their own business, so long as they obey all the laws and pay their legal taxes. All that concerns me is that anyone should force them to work without properly compensating them for it."

"Your grace, if you have any doubts, you are able to fly there right now. We certainly cannot stop you. Nor are we able to fly as you can. You will be able to hear it from their own mouths. They will tell you that they willingly gave their service to the Faith and feel their work was well justified."

"That will not be necessary. Now, I want to know what it is about this situation that caused all these august lords to come beating on my door."

Middlebury and his colleagues looked very uncomfortable. Perhaps he was now regretting his decision to appeal to a king who everyone knew was not sympathetic to the rights of the high born. "It's wrong that some wretched septum can demand free labor while we must pay the ingrates."

"Ingrates?" It was the wrong word to use, and Middlebury knew it. But it was too late. "What have they to thank you for?"

"We…" and then he stopped. He was going to say that he protected them. But it was now the king's job to protect them. And protect from what? Who? Jon's eyes bored into him as if daring him to say it.

Birch was more than willing to fill the ensuing silence. "He burned down the sept!"

There was an uproar. Middlebury was screaming "You lie!" but his voice was being drowned out by the yelling of the spectators. "Silence!" Jon yelled. But no one, not even Folsom, could hear him. A wolf's howl finally cut through the bedlam. Hands reached for blades, though not dare draw them. Even Jon was taken off guard.

In the silence everyone heard Folsom mutter, "I guess Ghost doesn't like noise." His words cut the tension and many laughed. Ghost cocked his head at Folsom as if asking 'what?' This only made more people laugh.

Jon smiled, but his voice was grim when he addressed Middlebury again. "Explain yourself."

"The wretch lies."

The crowd expressed their disapproval. Jon didn't need Ghost's growl to tell him Middlebury wasn't being honest. "Lord, do I need to put your head in my wolf's jaws."

"I am not lying!" Ghost growled louder. "Your grace, I confess I acted rashly. But I was only trying to get them to take me seriously."

Birch spoke triumphantly, "He thought he could frighten us." His manner was almost manic. "He sent his man to command us to feed his pigs!" Everyone knew how proud Middlebury was of his pigs. "When we refused, he came with his men and tried to burn down the sept!"

Jon demanded, "Is this true?"

Middlebury shifted back and forth like a trapped animal. "I only wanted what I was owed. I didn't burn down the sept."

"No. We stopped him before he could."

Jon was losing patience with the wild man. "You have had your say. Allow the lord to have his."

Birch was now all humility. "As your grace desires."

Jon was really starting to loath the man. But there was no denying who was right. "Lord Middlebury, what do you mean 'you were owed'?"

Middlebury had once again trapped himself. "I gave them the seed they needed."

Birch couldn't keep his mouth shut. "You sold it to them."

Jon sighed. "What else?"

"I…" Middlebury was trying really hard to think of something. But every point that came to his mind the scarecrow could make an objection just like the last one.

After Middlebury sputtered for several seconds, Jon had finally had enough. "Middlebury, I reject your complaint. You do not own the small folk, and they are free to give their labor to whomever they want. You will pay to repair the damage you caused the sept. If you would listen to my advice, I would suggest you also give a contribution to the Seven as well. It would make the folk of Mayfarm think more highly of you. This audience is concluded."

There was talk all around as the crowd expressed their various opinions. Middlebury himself was now in a heated argument with his supporters, who didn't like his poor performance.

Birch, proving that he really was fearless, walked up to Jon while ignoring Ghost entirely. "I must commend your grace. You show greater wisdom than most." He was much saner now.

"Most high born you mean."

Birch nodded, a small smile creasing his face. "Most high born wouldn't even try to be fair."

"I'm not most high born."

"No, you are not. Even though you do not worship the Seven, I still believe the Father looks over you. You have the wisdom of the Crone. I am glad others of the Faith are wrong about you."

He bowed and left. Jon muttered to himself. "I wish I was."

Arya was bored. This was not an uncommon emotion for her. She never liked the tedium that came with meetings and appointments. Thus, she avoided them whenever possible. This wasn't so easy when the one running the council was her sister-wife. She had been standing for hours, and night had surely fallen. The meeting showed no sign of ending.

What was most annoying was she didn't dare leave.

After showing her the city, or at least as much of it as he wanted her to see, Strut had taken her to a meeting with the conclave of magisters. Who then proceeded to spend hours arguing. In a refreshing change from what she had encountered so far, the magisters were surprisingly honest. It was very much against the reputation of Lys. That they were discussing war with Westeros was what kept her in the room.

The discussion was mostly between two men; she hadn't bothered to learn their names. One, who was evidently the head magister, was an immensely fat man with gold rings on every finger. He fit every minstrel's caricature of the greedy merchant. His opposition was a much younger man who appeared buried in heavy coats totally at variance with the climate. Though opponent is perhaps the wrong word. They were both arguing that war with Westeros was inevitable. They only argued over which tactic they should use.

Arya tried to get in a comment from time to time, but they all ignored her. Strut, shirt still half open, slouched in his chair, annoyed by the whole thing. As best Arya could tell, he wasn't feigning. What she didn't understand was if he disagreed so much why didn't he say anything.

It was in the middle of this 'discussion' that it hit her like a blast of cold air. Arya didn't know what to call it. It was a surge of overwhelming emotions, anger foremost. All she knew for certain was where it came from. With a cry she fled the room. Behind her came other cries as the magisters objected to her leaving or demanding to know what was wrong.

It took only a second to exit the building. Beyond the doors was a meticulously manicured garden containing the greenest grass she'd ever seen. Fruit trees lined the boulevards on either side. It was what was directly ahead of her that held her attention.

Snowflake was roaring in fury. A scorpion bolt protruded from her neck. No doubt it had been aimed at her eye, but the dragon had moved her head at the last moment, and it struck her wrong. The wound was not life threatening, but the barbed head was deep enough the dragon couldn't pull it out.

She sensed Strut standing next to her and looked up at him. The horrified look on his face convinced her he was blameless for this event. She spotted more soldiers moving in to attack Snowflake. Grabbing Strut's arm she yelled, "Stop them!"

Without waiting for an answer, she ran towards another group she guessed were the ones who had first attacked Snowflake. She could hear Strut yelling at the other magisters. She didn't bother to find out which of them, if any, was responsible.

"You idiots, stop!" she yelled at them, remembering to use the Lysani dialect she'd learned when she was with the faceless men. One of the soldiers moved to draw on her, but she knocked him to the ground.

The sergeant who commanded them replied, "We don't obey you!"

"If you don't stop she'll burn you to ash!"

They weren't convinced, until they looked past Arya and saw that they had attracted the dragon's attention. That was enough to make them flee in all directions.

Arya spun to face the dragon. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the magisters trying to get control of their soldiers. But her attention was strictly on the beast in front of her. "Snowflake, stop!"

Heat poured over her as Snowflake bellowed her defiance. Arya seldom felt fear, but this was one of those times. She could not control her dragon. Only persuade. Not like Jon. He could make any of the dragons obey with just a thought. But Arya's link wasn't the same as his, or Dany's. She could communicate with her dragon in a way no normal person could. But she could not possess Snowflake the way she could Nymeria. Snowflake's red eyes flashed with rage and Arya knew this wasn't going to be easy.

Arya noticed that the magisters were struggling to keep control of their soldiers and failing. All around them knots of men were gathering armed with bows and crossbows. Such weapons might as well have been twigs for the harm they could cause. What they were capable of was enraging Snowflake further. Arya had to keep her eyes focused on her dragon, hoping that with sheer willpower she could force the beast to obey.

Suddenly, Snowflake launched herself. Arya cried, "No!" but it was too late. Across the city eyes gazed up in horror. Everyone paused breathlessly, waiting for the beast to unleash her fire.

Snowflake didn't breathe fire. Instead, she alighted onto the roof of the Parmenion, Lys' great library, her pale effort to rival the Citadel. Snowflake tried repeatedly to pull the scorpion bolt from her neck, but her wing claw couldn't get a grip.

Arya ran for the Parmenion. Columns held up its roof on all four sides, its veranda completely surrounding the building.

On the wall of the city a crew had managed to prepare a ballista. They had loaded a bolt and were ready to fire when their officer intervened. He shoved the man at the trigger aside. "What are you doing?"

"The beast is on a rampage!" a man yelled back.

"You want to enrage it further? Who do think it will attack first?"

The men all looked at each other and pointed the machine into the air.

Arya couldn't see any way to get to the roof. The building hadn't been designed with such access in mind. Looking the columns over, they appeared smooth as glass. Once up-close Arya saw that they weren't as well maintained as at first glance. The building had been neglected for some time and cracks had developed in the marble. Arya was no Bran, but she could climb with the best of them. Without hesitation she set to work. She found plenty of purchase for her hands and feet, though her grip wasn't nearly as strong as she would have liked. Resolutely refusing to look down, she ascended rapidly.

So focused on her task as she was she failed to notice that much the great and mighty of Lys watched as she seemed to climb like a spider.

The roof of the Parmenion was higher than the great hall of Winterfell's had been. She reached it far sooner than she'd expected. The thought of how high up she was almost made her lose her grip. She now faced her second problem; how to pull herself up onto the roof. She wished really hard that Snowflake would reach down and grab her, but the dragon was way too enraged to notice. There was a gutter attached to the roof and Arya reached for it. The struts holding it up bent, but didn't break. Once she got a firm grip she had no trouble pulling herself up.

Having succeeded, she took a moment to take a breath. The roof was steep, but hardly intimidating. Arya crawled a few steps before regaining her confidence. She then ran up the rest of the way to the peak of the roof. She planted herself in front of her dragon.

"Snowflake stop!"

Snowflake roared and for a brief moment Arya was afraid the dragon would actually burn her. Arya was no Valyrian. She had no resistance to fire the way Dany did. She didn't flinch.

Snowflake finally got control of herself. She turned her head, presenting the bolt. Without hesitation, Arya stepped forward and took hold of the shaft. She pulled with all her strength, but the barbs were buried deep. Snowflake roared in pain but held still. Taking a better grip, Array planted her foot on the dragon's neck. She pulled with all her strength and out it came. Arya fell over with the force of her pull and found herself sliding rapidly toward the roof's edge. She screamed, having released the bolt, but there was no purchase for her hands. Snowflake's claw snagged her before she reached the edge.

Strut and all the Lysani watched almost breathless. They saw Arya stand and walk to her beast. More than a few wondered what action she would now take. They watched her nuzzle her dragon, then leap upon its back. For a fear filled moment, they believed the worst was upon them as the dragon circled the city. but then it turned out to sea and vanished into the dawn.

Arya sat at the table while around her the Queensguards were breaking their fast. Rather abnormally, Arya found herself bereft of appetite, despite not having eaten for over half a day. She satisfied herself with some hot tea.

She had been telling them of the events of the night. Lyanna was vocal in her opinion that they should burn the city down. Alys found herself virtually alone in opposing the idea. Brienne was careful to not express her own. Jake, on his part, showed no interest in their conversation. Listening to Arya's rendition seemed to awaken his maester curiosity. He was particularly interested in the argument within the council chamber. He tried to get her to remember every single phrase verbatim. It annoyed her no end and she heartily wished he'd go back to sulking.

Steal Pans poked his head through the door. "T-t-t-there's a… a… t-t-there's a…"

Arya said, "Shh, relax. Try again."

He took a deep breath. "There's a boat coming. There's a boat…"

"Thank you. I'll be right there."

He nodded and left. Brienne asked, "Who do you think it is?"

Arya shrugged. "We'll soon find out."

A few minutes later they were all on deck waiting. From the direction of the city a large boat was approaching. Standing at its bow was Strut, considerably better dressed this time. As the boat came alongside, one of the ironborn, as befits a true seaman, did not bother lowering a ladder. Instead, he tossed a rope to Strut, who on catching it, scurried up the side as if it were a ramp. He handed the rope back before addressing Arya.

"Greetings your grace." This time he said it with considerably more politeness. "I came to apologize for what happened last night. I was asked by the other magisters to assure you that no harm was intended toward either you or your dragon."

"I had already figured that out."

"Yes. Rest assured we appreciate your restraint. I have brought gifts we hope will aid you on your journey and wish you to convey our invitation to your august spouse. Let him know that any envoy he chooses to send will receive a friendly welcome."

This was a very surprising result and most of the Queensguards could hardly believe it. Brienne said, "I thought the Lysani didn't like visitors."

"Hardly. We are a port town. We depend on visitors. What we do not like is would-be conquerors, of which we have had more than a few. There is no denying that we have had questionable friends in the past. But we are willing to find new ones."

"And we are willing to be friends," answered Arya. "There have been far too many occasions on this trip that we have encountered hostility. I will indeed pass your greetings and your message to my spouses. Both of them."

He smiled as they both knew Dany was unlikely to find any kind of welcome in Lys.

Yimi's mind was on other things. "What did he bring us?" They could tell from her voice she was hoping for something gold and pretty.

Thus, she was the only one disappointed when a sailor held up a sack. "Food!" Alys yelled.

"Good," Asha answered. She had held back before now. "Something we have real need of."

Yimi looked sour and the others took great delight in teasing her for the rest of the day. When Asha's foragers finally returned, they were equally pissed when they found the fleet had acquired more food than they had.

END CHAPTER 24