Roose Bolton shrugged. “Arya Stark was lost for a time, it was true, but now she has been found. I mean to see her returned safely to the north.”
“Her and her sister both,” said Brienne. “Tyrion Lannister has promised us both girls for his brother.”
That seemed to amuse the Lord of the Dreadfort. “My lady, has no one told you? Lannisters lie.”
“Is that a slight on the honor of my House?” Jaime picked up the cheese knife with his good hand. “A rounded point, and dul ,” he said, sliding his thumb along the edge of the blade, “but it will go through your eye all the same.” Sweat beaded his brow. He could only hope he did not look as feeble as he felt.
Lord Bolton’s little smile paid another visit to his lips. “You speak boldly for a man who needs help to break his bread. My guards are al around us, I remind you.”
“All around us, and half a league away.” Jaime glanced down the vast length of the hal . “By the time they reach us, you’l be as dead as Aerys.”
“ ‘Tis scarcely chivalrous to threaten your host over his own cheese and olives,” the Lord of the Dreadfort scolded. “In the north, we hold the laws of hospitality sacred still.”
“I’m a captive here, not a guest. Your goat cut off my hand. if you think some prunes wil make me overlook that, you’re bloody well mistaken.”
That took Roose Bolton aback. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps I ought to make a wedding gift of you to Edmure Tul y... or strike your head off, as your sister did for Eddard Stark.”
“I would not advise it. Casterly Rock has a long memory.”
“A thousand leagues of mountain, sea, and bog lie between my walls and your rock. Lannister enmity means little to Bolton.”
“Lannister friendship could mean much.” Jaime thought he knew the game they were playing now. But does the wench know as wel ? He dare not look to see.
“I am not certain you are the sort of friends a wise man would want.” Roose Bolton beckoned to the boy. “Elmar, carve our guests a slice off the roast.” Brienne was served first, but made no move to eat. “My lord,” she said, “Ser Jaime is to be exchanged for Lady Catelyn’s daughters. You must free us to continue on our way.”
“The raven that came from Riverrun told of an escape, not an exchange. And if you helped this captive slip his bonds, you are guilty of treason, my lady.” The big wench rose to her feet. “I serve Lady Stark.”
“And I the King in the North. Or the King Who Lost the North, as some now cal him. Who never wished to trade Ser Jaime back to the Lannisters.”
“Sit down and eat, Brienne,” Jaime urged, as Elmar placed a slice of roast before him, dark and bloody. “If Bolton meant to kill us, he wouldn’t be wasting his precious prunes on us, at such peril to his bowels.” He stared at the meat and realized there was no way to cut it, one-handed. I am worth less than a girl now, he thought. The goat’s evened the trade, though I doubt Lady Catelyn will thank him when Cersei returns her whelps in like condition. The thought made him grimace. I will get the blame for that as wel , I’ll wager.
Roose Bolton cut his meat methodically, the blood running across his plate. “Lady Brienne, will you sit if I tell you that I hope to send Ser Jaime on, just as you and Lady Stark desire?”
“I... you’d send us on?” The wench sounded wary, but she sat. “That is good, my lord.”
“It is. However, Lord Vargo has created me one small... difficulty.” He turned his pale eyes on Jaime. “Do you know why Hoat cut off your hand?”
“He enjoys cutting off hands.” The linen that covered Jaime’s stump was spotted with blood and wine. “He enjoys cutting off feet as wel . He doesn’t seem to need a reason.”
“Nonetheless, he had one. Hoat is more cunning than he appears. No man commands a company such as the Brave Companions for long unless he has some wits about him.” Bolton stabbed a chunk of meat with the point of his dagger, put it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed. “Lord Vargo abandoned House Lannister because I offered him Harrenhal, a reward a thousand times greater than any he could hope to have from Lord Tywin. As a stranger to Westeros, he did not know the prize was poisoned.”
“The curse of Harren the Black?” mocked Jaime.
“The curse of Tywin Lannister.” Bolton held out his goblet and Elmar refilled it silently. “Our goat should have consulted the Tarbecks or the Reynes. They might have warned him how your lord father deals with betrayal.”
“There are no Tarbecks or Reynes,” said Jaime.
“My point precisely. Lord Vargo doubtless hoped that Lord Stannis would triumph at King’s Landing, and thence confirm him in his possession of this castle in gratitude for his small part in the downfal of House Lannister.” He gave a dry chuckle. “He knows little of Stannis Baratheon either, I fear. That one might have given him Harrenhal for his service... but he would have given him a noose for his crimes as well.”
“A noose is kinder than what he’ll get from my father.”
“By now he has come to the same realization. With Stannis broken and Renly dead, only a Stark victory can save him from Lord Tywin’s vengeance, but the chances of that grow perishingly slim.”
“King Robb has won every battle,” Brienne said stoutly, as stubbornly loyal of speech as she was of deed.
“Won every battle, while losing the Freys, the Karstarks, Winterfell, and the north. A pity the wolf is so young. Boys of sixteen always believe they are immortal and invincible. An older man would bend the knee, I’d think. After a war there is always a peace, and with peace there are pardons... for the Robb Starks, at least. Not for the likes of Vargo Hoat.” Bolton gave him a small smile. “Both sides have made use of him, but neither wil shed a tear at his passing. The Brave Companions did not fight in the Battle of the Blackwater, yet they died there al the same.”
“You’l forgive me if I don’t mourn?”
“You have no pity for our wretched doomed goat? Ah, but the gods must... else why deliver you into his hands?” Bolton chewed another chunk of meat. “Karhold is smal er and meaner than Harrenhal, but it lies wel beyond the reach of the lion’s claws. Once wed to Alys Karstark, Hoat might be a lord in truth. If he could col ect some gold from your father so much the better, but he would have delivered you to Lord Rickard no matter how much Lord Tywin paid. His price would be the maid, and safe refuge.
“But to sel you he must keep you, and the riverlands are full of those who would gladly steal you away. Glover and Tal hart were broken at Duskendale, but remnants of their host are stil abroad, with the Mountain slaughtering the stragglers. A thousand Karstarks prowl the lands south and east of Riverrun, hunting you. Elsewhere are Darry men left lordless and lawless, packs of four-footed wolves, and the lightning lord’s outlaw bands. Dondarrion would gladly hang you and the goat together from the same tree.” The Lord of the Dreadfort sopped up some of the blood with a chunk of bread. “Harrenhal was the only place Lord Vargo could hope to hold you safe, but here his Brave Companions are much outnumbered by my own men, and by Ser Aenys and his Freys. No doubt he feared I might return you to Ser Edmure at Riverrun... or worse, send you on to your father.
“By maiming you, he meant to remove your sword as a threat, gain himself a grisly token to send to your father, and diminish your value to me. For he is my man, as I am King Robb’s man.
Thus his crime is mine, or may seem so in your father’s eyes. And therein lies my... small difficulty.” He gazed at Jaime, his pale eyes unblinking, expectant, chill.
I see. “You want me to absolve you of blame. To tel my father that this stump is no work of yours.” Jaime laughed. “My lord, send me to Cersei, and I’ll sing as sweet a song as you could want, of how gently you treated me.” Any other answer, he knew, and Bolton would give him back to the goat. “Had I a hand, I’d write it out. How I was maimed by the sellsword my own father brought to Westeros, and saved by the noble Lord Bolton.”
“I will trust to your word, ser.”
There’s something I don’t often hear. “How soon might we be permitted to leave? And how do you mean to get me past al these wolves and brigands and Karstarks?”
“You will leave when Qyburn says you are strong enough, with a strong escort of picked men under the command of my captain, Walton. Steelshanks, he is cal ed. A soldier of iron loyalty.
Walton wil see you safe and whole to King’s Landing.”
“Provided Lady Catelyn’s daughters are delivered safe and whole as well,” said the wench.
“My lord, your man Walton’s protection is welcome, but the girls are my charge.” The Lord of the Dreadfort gave her an uninterested glance. “The girls need not concern you any further, my lady. The Lady Sansa is the dwarf’s wife, only the gods can part them now.”
“His wife?” Brienne said, appal ed. “The Imp? But... he swore, before the whole court, in sight of gods and men...”
She is such an innocent. Jaime was almost as surprised, if truth be told, but he hid it better.
Sansa Stark, that ought to put a smile on Tyrion’s face. He remembered how happy his brother had been with his little crofter’s daughter... for a fortnight.
“What the Imp did or did nor swear scarcely matters now,” said Lord Bolton. “Least of al to you.” The wench looked almost wounded. Perhaps she finally felt the steel jaws of the trap when Roose Bolton beckoned to his guards. “Ser Jaime will continue on to King’s Landing. I said nothing about you, I fear. It would be unconscionable of me to deprive Lord Vargo of both his prizes.” The Lord of the Dreadfort reached out to pick another prune. “Were I you, my lady, I should worry less about Starks and rather more about sapphires.