Chapter 73: The Thief from Lys
Dragonstone's main castle, the Stone Drum, the Round Table Hall.
The chamber was a great circular room with four tall windows looking out to the four cardinal directions.
Briny sea wind drifted in, making the air feel cold and sharp.
Before the map table, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, studied the lines and contours as though the rivers and mountains of Westeros were spread beneath his gaze.
At his side stood Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Brynden Tully, and the others, all of them many years older than the prince—an entourage of elders.
Word from King's Landing said King Aerys II Targaryen was already choosing him some younger companions; perhaps they would bring a little youthful color to the company.
Only one chair stood in the hall; Rhaegar sat upon it, the whole tabletop laid out before him.
Two centuries earlier, Aegon the Conqueror had held a single island, three dragons, and precious few allies, yet he swallowed kingdoms like a ravening tiger.
The glory of his forebears seemed to shimmer still before his eyes.
Rhaegar gazed seaward and saw a steady stream of ships sliding into Dragonstone's harbor.
The island was regaining its bustle, though who could tell how many spies rode within those fleets?
Since the Red Comet had appeared, the Free Cities had sent far more vessels.
They waste no time, Rhaegar thought, watching the varicolored sails.
Once the dragons rose again, Dragonmount would regain its old worth and had to be guarded accordingly.
"Ser, have you noticed the island filling with unfamiliar guests?" Rhaegar asked.
"Indeed," Ser Brynden Tully answered with a nod.
"Your Highness, by your command we have added several outposts near Dragonmount, tightened oversight of the castle servants, and set watchers in taverns, mess halls, and on the quays. Someone is indeed paying in silver and gold for scraps of news," the Castellan of Dragonstone reported.
"But we're short of hands. Dragonstone has gone long without such attention," the castellan said, embarrassed.
Rhaegar found that natural; the island was small and remote. After the dragons vanished its importance had waned—but now they were reborn, and Dragonstone would bustle once more.
At present the island remained a cold, neglected post; no one had come to warm its hearth. When the castellan saw Rhaegar arrive, he greeted him with eager warmth.
Rhaegar did not leave him unrewarded: the castellan's heir was a fair fighter and a fine sailor and swordsman, and Rhaegar slipped him into the Eagle Guards.
"If we lack men, let Cesar send some of mine. They're young and unknown. Ser Brynden's red hair draws too many eyes. We won't startle the prey—just note where it comes from," Rhaegar said.
Fortify every inch of Dragonstone and you leave every inch weak.
For now Rhaegar ringed only the castle, the mountain, the taverns, and docks, waiting to see if any fish would bite.
"I brought thirty squires; in need they will gladly serve you, my prince," Larys Velaryon said smoothly, shifting his allegiance. Driftmark lay close to Dragonstone, and House Velaryon always had its private channels of news; Larys had arrived by swift cutter within days.
Larys judged that clinging to King Aerys II promised little profit; better to change patrons. In these times a nimble turn was all it took to climb the heights.
"Good, ser. I do need a sea serpent who can work," Rhaegar said, eyeing Larys. The man was a flatterer, but such men, hungry only for fame and coin, could be useful if leashed.
Larys bowed, craven with fright; House Velaryon had fallen too far, too fast to strut like a great lord.
A phoenix in distress is worth less than a chicken. Gone were the days when the Sea Snake's house supplied the Master of Ships, admirals, and fleets whose wealth outshone the realm. Their lands were meager now; without new navigators to bring in gold, they would only fade.
Rhaegar meant to see who would be first to show impatience.
He also warned his soldiers to beware, for Lys and Myr were famed for hidden blades and poisons.
When Rhaegar rode for Dragonmount, overall command passed to Ser Brynden Tully and Lord Joffrey Arryn, with the castellan and the Velaryons under them.
With all arranged, Rhaegar again set out for Dragonmount with a handful of retainers.
Below the mountain he had posted temporary patrols; the summit's smoking caverns were too harsh for common men to linger in—he need only wait for prey to emerge.
But the dragons had been gone so long that the Dragon Guards had fallen into disuse.
Rhaegar pulled some of his fresh troops to patrol, yet the gaps were too wide to truly seal the mountain.
During his days on Dragonstone he had searched nearly every cave and cranny of Dragonmount.
No dragon egg as lucky as Balerion's remained; every place stood empty.
Only broken bones were left for him to gaze upon.
Yet the young dragons loved those hot caverns reeking of smoke and brimstone; they hunted and tussled in every hollow.
When the wyrms tired themselves with play and sought sleep, Rhaegar carried them to the lair and watched their scales glitter like living fire.
As Rhaegar, Barristan, and Cesar descended Dragonmount, the night was thick, but they heard running feet and the shouts of pursuit.
At the mountain's foot a fight was already under way.
By torchlight Rhaegar saw two black-clad men caught in the tightening net of Lord Joffrey Arryn's guards—golden curls, pale skin, typical Lyseni looks.
The thieves could not hold back the soldiers pouring in to surround them.
"Drop your weapons, men of Lys. Entering Dragonmount unbidden is high treason," Lord Joffrey Arryn called, while his men raised crossbows and trained them on the two intruders.
Rhaegar and Barristan stepped closer; the ring had closed, leaving the Lyseni no escape. One was a rough-hewn man of middle years with big hands and feet; the other a boy of perhaps ten-and-some, silver-haired, large-eyed, and delicate.
"Your Highness!" Lord Joffrey called to Rhaegar. "As planned, we've netted several big fish, though a few slipped away."
Fifty men could not truly hold Dragonmount; it was more a game of chance.
"Throw down your arms and yield," Joffrey commanded again.
The older man clenched his teeth; a tiny crossbow appeared in his hand, and he fired straight at Rhaegar.
He cared not who Rhaegar was; kill the kingpin and the rest might scatter. Even if the victim proved a true Targaryen prince, Lyseni hands were not unaccustomed to royal blood.
"My prince, beware—the bolt is poisoned!" Joffrey and Brynden sprang to shield him.
Lyseni and Myrish are no great warriors or sailors, but they know hidden steel and venom.
The quarrels flew like wind, impossible to outrun.
Rhaegar snatched a longshield from a soldier; the eagle god favored him, and every bolt rang against the wood. Three deadly shafts he turned aside.
"Fight with me, kill them all, Lysandro!" the older man roared at the youth.
But the golden-haired boy stood unmoved, indifferent, offering no resistance.
The Eagle Guards surged in; Lord Joffrey hacked off the man's crossbow hand and had him seized. The boy surrendered quietly and was merely pinned to the ground.
"What is your name?" Rhaegar asked.
The man said nothing; he had climbed too high, seen too far, and his strength was spent.
"Who sent you?" Rhaegar demanded.
The Lyseni kept his silence.
Lord Joffrey took a spear and began to prick him; blood seeped out, darkening the earth.
"I am Quickfinger Lysandro," the boy said. "This is Lord Gantos. We're among the fastest thieves in Lys. A rich merchant paid us to watch Dragonstone for anything strange, especially Dragonmount, to see if young dragons had hatched. I came for luck."
Lord Gantos's face twisted in fury. "You bastard whelp! Have you forgotten I bought you out of the circus? Without me you'd be a bed-slave!"
"You paid three silvers for me; the coin I've stolen for you was a hundredfold. Business is settled between us. You meant to sell me to the Perfume Garden—yes, I heard you speak of it. You were already training a new Quickfinger." Lysandro's eyes held cold light.
Gantos's face crumpled; thieving on Dragonmount meant death, and he had tried to murder a Targaryen prince besides.
Rhaegar studied Lysandro—the name seemed familiar from long ago.
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