Aldric counted the gold dragons in the small box. Five, gleaming in the torchlight.
The average price he'd charged at Riverrun's camps. Gavin Hunt was no fool. This "compensation" for the boy was really payment for his son's life. A clever man.
Ser Gavin had come alone, unarmed, betting his life on Aldric's honor. The manor gates were sealed, his eldest son on the walls. Checkmate.
Aldric knelt by the litter. "Great and merciful An'she, source of life, dawn of light. Pierce the darkness, bring healing..."
Sean convulsed. His eyes snapped open. "Light... Father, such bright light!"
Gavin clutched his son. "Sean? Does it hurt?"
"No, Father. The wounds... they're gone."
Gavin lifted the boy's shirt. The festering gashes were smooth skin. "A miracle. The Seven's grace."
"The Sun's grace," Aldric corrected.
Gavin bowed. "The Sun's grace. May it shelter us through these dark days."
"Stay the night," Gavin urged. "Let me repay you."
Aldric shook his head. "We march at dawn."
He didn't trust guest right with armed men on the walls and his knights still in armor. Not yet.
"Where is St. Morus Abbey?" Aldric asked.
Gavin brightened. "Famous for its wine. Why?"
"My friend Brother John serves there. I need a guide."
"My honor," Gavin said. "Sean!"
The boy sat up. "Father, let me go. He saved me."
Gavin hesitated. His youngest. No lands for him. Perhaps the Golden Dawn...
"Take Iain and Walt," Gavin said. "And forgive his youth if he offends."
Sean rode out armed like a recruit, not a guide.
"Captain Aldric," Sean said, bowing. "I'm yours."
"Follow Ser Duncan. Point the way. We'll scout."
The column reformed, banners high, armor on. No more surprises.
Days later, at a crossroads.
Logs barred the road. Archers nocked arrows behind them. Pikemen and axemen waited.
A knight in full plate spurred forward. "Who are you? Where do you take these faithful?"
Aldric raised a hand. "Who blocks us?"
"Ser Theodore Wells, knight of the Seven." He eyed the golden sun banner. "Release them, Lannister, or fight."
"Golden Dawn," Aldric said. "From the North. Escorting refugees to St. Morus for sanctuary."
Theodore frowned. "St. Morus? Why not a sept?"
"Brother John awaits me."
Theodore leaned forward. "'Rainbow John'? Prove it."
Aldric held out the stone hammer pendant. Smooth, worn from years of prayer.
Theodore examined it. No thief would keep such a worthless thing.
"Very well," he said. "We'll escort you. For John's sake."
Aldric smiled inwardly. Spying on me. Fine.
The barricades parted. Aldric rode beside Theodore.
"How far to the abbey?" Aldric asked.
"Twelve days with your rabble. Less without."
Aldric nodded. A month since Riverrun. Wonder how Robb fared.
"West?" Aldric asked. "The war?"
Theodore spat. "Your Young Wolf raids the Westerlands. Castles burn, towns bleed. Edmure calls banners to the west bank. But the bribed ones—south of Harrenhal—stay put. Amory Lorch holds the castle now."
"Traitors fear Tywin's shadow."
Theodore's eyes darkened. "Tywin marches west from Riverrun. If Robb turns, he and Edmure pinch him. If Tywin turns, he and King's Landing pinch Riverrun. Pawns on a board."
Aldric looked at the refugees. The Riverlands was the board. And the pieces bled.
"Checkmate?" Aldric asked.
Theodore laughed bitterly. "No king yields. They play until the board burns."