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Jaime tested Beric with a quick thrust.
Beric turned the blade aside with the jagged wooden shield strapped to his arm. The flaming sword came down in answer, bright and ugly in the dim hall.
Jaime slipped away from it and cut at Beric's knee.
Beric blocked again.
Then he kicked Jaime in the chest.
The blow sent Jaime back half a step, but his dagger flashed before he yielded the ground. Its edge opened a deep line below Beric's knee.
Beric did not cry out.
Jaime's eyes narrowed.
"You are not Beric Dondarrion," he said. "Who are you?"
"An ordinary man cannot do this," Beric answered. "The Lord of Light can."
"Convenient."
"Enough testing."
Beric moved again.
The wound in his leg was deep enough to make any normal man limp. Beric attacked as if he did not feel it. His flaming sword cut down from above. Jaime dodged, thrust toward the wrist, and found the shield there waiting.
The jagged edge of the shield smashed into the left side of Jaime's face.
Flesh tore. Part of his ear came away. Blood spilled hot over his cheek.
The hall gasped.
Jaime did not.
Beric's injured knee buckled at last.
That was the opening Jaime had been waiting for.
He sprang forward, drove his sword through Beric's back, and pinned him through the chest.
Near Brienne, Sandor covered the youngest girl's eyes with one hand.
Jaime leaned close to Beric's ear.
"You do not feel pain," he said softly. "That does not mean your body can ignore wounds."
Beric's fingers twitched toward a small wooden tube hidden at his chest.
Jaime saw it.
His dagger struck Beric in the throat.
Blood bubbled out. The wooden tube slipped from Beric's hand and rolled across the stone.
Jaime picked it up, retrieved his sword and dagger, and turned toward the hall.
Thoros had already begun to pray.
Jaime laughed.
"Pray harder. Perhaps your god will explain why he chose a fool."
He walked toward the exit.
Sandor stepped into his path.
Jaime stopped. "Move, dog."
"Your son orphaned three children," Sandor said. "I challenge you."
"My son?" Jaime smiled despite the blood running down his face. "Careful, Clegane. Treason sounds different when spoken aloud."
"I said what I said."
"No. You want an excuse. I am weak from fever, half starved, and bleeding. You could not have picked a better time to discover honor."
Sandor drew his sword.
Jaime looked past him to Thoros. "The trial was in the name of your god. I won. Unless your red god changes his judgment when a dog growls, perhaps you should control him."
Sandor's expression changed.
Behind Jaime, Beric drew breath.
Jaime turned slowly.
Beric Dondarrion stood again. Blood still marked his throat, but the wound had closed enough for him to speak.
'Impossible.'
'I did not miss. I struck the vitals. He cannot still be alive.'
Beric looked at Jaime with his single eye.
"Victory does not always prove innocence," Beric said. "Perhaps the Lord of Light sees a chance for you to atone. Perhaps he has other arrangements."
His gaze moved to Sandor.
"No one attacks him in Brotherhood territory."
Sandor tightened his grip on the sword, then lowered it with visible effort.
Thoros seized the moment. His voice filled the hall, praising the Lord of Light and the miracle shown before them. One by one, Brotherhood men fell to their knees.
Qyburn stood among them, but he was not praying.
His eyes remained fixed on Beric's throat.
After a while, he slipped away into the shadows, his face feverish with the hunger to understand.
Far to the east of the Riverlands, Gulltown stood under new banners.
The Vale had become a nest of kings.
After Andar Royce of Runestone proclaimed himself the Bronze King, Ser Gerold Grafton of Gulltown declared Robin Arryn a bastard and named himself King of Gulltown. Lyn Corbray of Heart's Home followed by proclaiming himself King of the Fingers.
Gerold Grafton had destroyed the Arryn branch in Gulltown and seized the wealth of the port. House Shett supported him.
Then Gerold marched out, hoping to profit from Andar Royce's war with the Eyrie.
He never returned.
Tyrion Lannister's raid weakened him, and Lyn Corbray's ambush finished him. House Grafton was shattered. The surviving Graftons fled by ship, while Lyn entered Gulltown and spared the merchants only after House Shett paid heavily and bent the knee.
Lyn left six thousand men near Gulltown to watch Runestone.
The Bronze King, hearing the news, turned back toward the Bay of Crabs. Lyn, unwilling to be trapped, left one thousand men to guard the city and marched nearly five thousand toward Runestone, hoping to take it before Andar returned.
That was when Stannis Baratheon struck.
The day after Lyn Corbray marched away, the royal fleet entered the harbor.
The thousand men left in Gulltown fought from the walls, but they could not stop Stannis's four thousand veterans. By evening, the stag banner flew over the port.
Davos Seaworth reported first.
"Your Grace, the soldiers have been ordered not to harass the smallfolk or the merchants. The port is under control."
Ser Rolland Storm followed him.
"The remaining defenders have surrendered."
Then a man in fine but hastily arranged armor stepped forward and knelt.
"Your Grace, I am Ser Lynk Shett. House Shett offers its fealty and a gift in gold, grain, and ships."
Stannis looked at him, nodded once, and walked past.
Melisandre, standing beside the king, gave the three knights a faint smile.
After Stannis left, Lynk Shett's face tightened.
"Was the gift insufficient?"
Davos glanced after his king. "After the defeat at King's Landing, His Grace has been like this often. Do not take it to heart."
Rolland added, "If Lyn Corbray returns, he will not leave again. Your gift will matter more when Gulltown holds."
Lynk swallowed and nodded.
Outside, the sea wind blew through Gulltown's streets, carrying the smell of salt, blood, and a new war.
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