Chapter 14: The Ratcatcher's Shadow
The boy with the scar found me at my rented room two days later.
"Got something," he said, breathing hard like he'd run the whole way.
I pulled him inside, closed the door. "Report."
"The ratcatcher. Cheese. He's been asking questions. Weird ones." The boy pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment covered in crude drawings. "Drew this from what the others heard."
The parchment showed a rough map. The Red Keep's layout. And circled in charcoal: the royal nursery.
"He told a tavern keeper he needed to 'clear rats near the royal children.' Said it was important work, paid well." The boy looked up at me. "But the Keep already has ratcatchers on staff. Why would he need to know the layout unless—?"
"Unless he's planning something else." I handed him two silver stags. "Double the surveillance. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to. Especially if he meets with anyone from the City Watch. Former Gold Cloaks particularly."
"There's more." The boy hesitated. "He met someone. Two nights ago. At the Silk Street tavern. Big man, looked like a soldier. They talked quiet-like, heads close together. Money changed hands."
Blood. That has to be Blood.
"Did you hear a name?"
"No. But Mira—" One of the girls in the network. "—she followed him after. He went to a butcher's shop in Flea Bottom. Works there, she thinks."
Butcher. Former soldier. Meeting with Cheese.
The pieces were connecting.
"Good work. Keep watching both of them. Don't get close, don't let them see you. Just watch and report." I gave him another silver. "For Mira. Tell her she did well."
He left quickly, disappearing into the night streets.
I sat at my table, staring at the crude map.
So. Cheese and Blood. One ratcatcher, one butcher. Both with access to places they shouldn't be looking at.
But I couldn't move yet. No proof of actual conspiracy. Just suspicious behavior and my meta-knowledge. Kill them now, and I'd have the entire City Watch hunting me.
Wait too long, and they'd strike first.
I needed the middle ground. Identify them completely. Map their patterns. Be ready to eliminate both when the time came.
But first: the undercroft.
The Red Keep's undercroft was a labyrinth of forgotten maintenance tunnels, built during the original construction and expanded haphazardly over centuries. Servants used some passages. Ratcatchers knew others.
Most nobles had no idea they existed.
I entered through a drainage grate near the kitchen cellars, using information purchased from one of my informants. The smell hit immediately—mold, old stone, something dead in the walls.
I dropped my weight to thirty kilograms, making myself light enough to slip through narrow gaps. Pulled out a small lantern, shielded it with my hand.
The passages were tight. Low ceilings. Water dripping somewhere. The kind of place that would terrify anyone with a hint of claustrophobia.
Perfect for assassins.
I moved slowly, mapping each turn in my mind. The passages branched and intersected, a maze designed by no one and understood by few.
But patterns emerged. Main arteries ran along the Keep's foundation. Smaller branches led up through the walls, used for moving waste and accessing hidden spaces.
One branch—narrow, cramped, barely wide enough for a man—led directly toward the royal quarters.
I followed it.
The ceiling got lower. I had to crouch, then crawl. The walls pressed in from both sides.
This is how they'll come. Through passages too small for armored guards. Where normal defenses don't reach.
I tested Soru in the darkness. Kicked off, burst forward—
Crashed face-first into a support beam I hadn't seen.
Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood, hot and immediate, ran into my eyes. I cursed, grabbed the wall for balance.
Stupid. Can't use Soru without visibility.
But Kami-e worked. I practiced flowing through the tight spaces, making my body flexible enough to slip past obstacles. Useful. If I needed to chase someone through here, Kami-e would let me follow where Soru couldn't.
I found three exits from this particular passage. One near the nursery. One near the servant quarters. One that led outside the Keep entirely, to the cliffs overlooking Blackwater Bay.
Escape routes. Or entry points.
I memorized every turn, every branch, every exit.
When Blood and Cheese came—and they would come, Helaena's prophecy confirmed it—they'd use these passages.
And I'd be waiting.
The Silk Street tavern was crowded and loud, perfect cover.
I sat in a corner, hood up, nursing a cup of ale I wouldn't drink. My poison resistance meant alcohol didn't affect me anymore, but the act of drinking sold the disguise.
Cheese entered around midnight. Short, rat-faced, with the kind of shifty eyes that marked him as trouble even in Flea Bottom. He ordered ale, found a table, waited.
An hour later, his contact arrived.
Big. Maybe six-three, heavily muscled, with the scars and bearing of someone who'd seen combat. His hands were stained—blood or rust, hard to tell in the dim light.
The butcher.
They sat together, heads close. I was too far away to hear words, but I could read body language. Cheese was nervous, talking fast. The butcher was calm, controlled, asking questions.
Money changed hands. Cheese passed a folded parchment.
The butcher stood, left without finishing his drink.
Cheese stayed, ordered another ale, got drunk.
I followed the butcher.
He moved through Flea Bottom like he owned it, no fear of the dark streets or the desperate people in them. Confident. Dangerous.
He went to a butcher's stall, locked up for the night, and let himself in through the back.
I waited across the street, watching.
Lights came on inside. Shadows moved. Then nothing.
Harren. The butcher's name is probably Harren.
I'd check with my informants tomorrow. But for now, I had enough.
Two targets. Cheese and Harren. The beast with two heads.
"One is already rotting," Helaena had said.
Which one?
I studied the butcher's shop. Something about it felt wrong. The smell, maybe. Stronger than it should be.
Or maybe I was reading too much into a cryptic prophecy from a girl who spoke in metaphors and insect wisdom.
I turned away, headed back to my room.
Tomorrow: more surveillance. More information. Build the complete picture.
Then, when the time was right, eliminate the threat before it could fully form.
My room. Parchment spread across the table. Charcoal in hand.
I drew the undercroft map from memory. Main passages in thick lines. Branches in thin ones. Exits marked with X's.
Cheese's likely route: entrance near the kitchen, through the main artery, branch toward the nursery. Three exits nearby.
I circled the passage leading directly to Helaena's quarters in red.
This is where they'll come. This is where I'll wait.
But not yet. The timeline was wrong. Viserys still lived. The Dance hadn't started. Blood and Cheese, in the original history, came after Lucerys died. After Rhaenyra's son was killed and she wanted revenge.
Years away. Maybe.
But Helaena's prophecy didn't have a timeline. Just certainty that it would happen.
So I prepare. Watch. Wait for the right moment.
I added notes to the map. Guard patrol routes, based on observation. Servant schedules. Times when the passages would be empty.
When Blood and Cheese finally came, I'd know their path better than they did.
And I'd kill them in the darkness, where no one would ever find the bodies.
I rolled up the map, hid it under a loose floorboard.
Tomorrow: back to training. Back to building strength.
In three days: return to Helaena. Tell her I was hunting the beast. Reassure her that her children would be safe.
They will be. I'll make sure of it.
The candle burned low. I lay down, closed my eyes.
But sleep was slow coming. My mind kept circling back to that moment in the godswood. Helaena's hand in mine. Her voice, small and frightened: "My children—"
I'd sworn to protect them.
Now I just had to make good on that promise.
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