"When you knocked that old man down, the whole hall went wild."
They paused for a short rest beneath a stand of aspens just off the mountain road.
Bronn held the horses' reins, sipping from a mountain spring as he chatted with Tyrion Lannister.
"Everyone thought your punches were soft, but I knew what was really going on."
"The Seven saw it too. They didn't say a word—so they approved," Tyrion Lannister replied. He wore a leather jerkin and bent to gather dry branches from the ground.
The plaster had hardened with sweat, turning his fists into hammers. That had been his secret weapon.
"That old man was never my match. Even with real swords it would've been the same… Mord, pick up more sticks."
Yes—Mord had come along as well.
The moment the trial ended, Ser Vardis had escorted them out through the Bloody Gate, face grim, forbidding them ever to return. Mord went with them.
Since then the three had ridden hard without stopping until now, leaving Tyrion Lannister's back aching.
"Fighting our way through by brute force is impossible," Bronn said. "Travel light, move fast—that's our best chance. The less time we spend in the mountains, the better the odds we reach the riverlands alive. We should push on—hide by day, travel by night, avoid roads, make no noise, and for the love of the gods don't light fires."
Tyrion Lannister sighed."Bronn, that's a splendid plan. When I freeze to death tonight, don't blame me for not stopping to dig your grave."
"You dying doesn't matter. But if Mord dies, he'll just rot out here. He's too big—I couldn't dig a hole deep enough alone. Right, Mord?"
Mord grinned stupidly, baring his crooked teeth, and gathered sticks with even greater enthusiasm.
From the moment the trial ended, Mord had become the prisoner—and Tyrion the jailer.
"I still don't know why you brought him," Bronn grumbled. "His meat would be tough and rank… idiot, stop gathering sticks! A fire will bring the mountain clans!"
Tyrion Lannister shrugged."You want to rush through the night and crack your skull on a rock? I'd rather travel slowly—comfortably. And Bronn, I know you like horseflesh, but if my horse dies I can ride Mord. You'll be walking."
He gestured with his gloved hand toward the wind-carved cliffs surrounding them.
"Truth is, no matter what we do, the locals will find us. Their scouts and eyes are everywhere."
He scraped the soft fuzz from tree bark with a dagger, using it as tinder.
"Got a flint?"
Bronn slipped two fingers into a pouch at his belt and tossed one over.
Tyrion Lannister caught it midair. Knife against flint—sparks flew. The curled bark began to smoke.
"Thanks. You may be a sellsword, but you're undeniably useful. Put a sword in your hand and you're nearly as good as my brother Jaime. So what do you want, Bronn? Gold? Land? Women? Keep me alive and help me accomplish what I need, and you can have whatever you desire."
Bronn leaned forward, blowing gently on the embers until the flames leapt high."And if you die?"
"Die? That won't be necessary," Tyrion Lannister said. "I came into this world to accomplish something. Otherwise I wouldn't have been born a Lannister—Tywin's son. The Seven will agree, I'm sure."
Bronn took it as arrogance."Sounds like the talk of a conqueror. My sword is yours… but don't expect me to bow and scrape. I'm no man's servant."
"Nor any man's friend," Tyrion Lannister said. "I know full well that if the price is right, you'd betray me without hesitation. If anyone ever offers you coin for my head, remember—whatever they offer, I can pay more. I've only got one life this time. I intend to keep it."
Mord shuffled over, stacking the branches onto the fire."My lord, don't forget."
"Relax. You'll get your job," Tyrion Lannister said, barely masking his disgust.
"The kind where I can lie down and earn coin," Mord added eagerly.
"All right, look after the horses," Bronn said, unstrapping the hunting knife at his back and heading into the trees. "I'll find us some meat."
An hour later, the horses had been brushed, fed, and tied to the trees. The campfire crackled brightly, and a small mountain goat turned slowly on a spit, fat dripping and hissing in the flames, its aroma rich and mouthwatering.
"Now all we need is a good bottle of wine," Tyrion Lannister said. He kept his leather armor on, loosening only the straps.
"And a woman," Bronn added. "Preferably ten soldiers too."
He sat cross-legged by the fire, sharpening his sword on a whetstone. The harsh scrape of metal against stone carried an oddly comforting sound.
Mord curled up nearby, already snoring softly.
"Soon it'll be fully dark," the sellsword said. "I'll take first watch… though it won't help much. At least I might die in my sleep."
"Oh, I doubt we'll have to wait that long," Tyrion Lannister said, mouth watering at the smell of roasted meat. "They'll come. They always do."
Bronn stared at him across the fire, black eyes glinting like the night sky. The whetstone rasped once more along the blade.
"You have a plan."
"I always have a plan," Tyrion Lannister said. "I'm the succubus."
Bronn drew his dagger and carved slices of charred meat from the goat. Tyrion Lannister used two flat stones from the stream as plates.
"If we make it back to the riverlands," Bronn asked, "what then?"
"Find my lord father, win a few battles, then head to King's Landing or Casterly Rock and secure a proper position," Tyrion Lannister said, holding out his stone plate as Bronn piled it high with meat.
The sellsword chewed thoughtfully."So you weren't lying? The crimes they accused you of—you didn't do them?"
"Of course not," Tyrion Lannister said between bites. "Not only that—I already know who did."
"Doesn't matter if I'm three, thirteen, or thirty," Bronn said. "If someone framed me like that, I'd kill them."
Tyrion Lannister turned toward him."You may get the chance someday. Remember what I told you—a Lannister always pays his debts. And always settles his scores."
He stretched lazily."I think I'll take a nap. Wake me when we're about to die."
He didn't know how long passed…
"Tyrion," Bronn's voice came low and urgent.
Tyrion Lannister snapped awake.
The fire had burned down to embers, and figures were closing in on them from all directions.