Marwyn the "Mage"

The newcomer was so unkempt that he drew stares.

His neck was thick as a bull's, his heavy jaw like a whetstone.

A round beer belly thrust out proudly, forming a grotesque contrast with his unusually broad, solid chest and shoulders.

Coarse white hairs sprouted stubbornly from his large, jutting ears and enormous nostrils like tenacious weeds.

Most unforgettable of all was his face.

His forehead was exceptionally high and prominent, and his nose had clearly been broken more than once, leaving its bridge crooked and caved in.

When he opened his mouth in a peculiar grin, his teeth were stained dark red by some sourleaf juice, as though they had soaked up blood.

The old man strolled over to Liu Qian and listened with interest to the red-robed woman on the platform, who was screaming herself hoarse in a frenzy.

Only after a long while did his small, crafty eyes drift toward Liu Qian. His voice came out in a coarse rasp. "Eastern boy, I'd wager you're from Yidi."

Maintaining basic courtesy, Liu Qian inclined his head. "Yes, sir."

"Aha!" The old man let out a short, ambiguous exclamation, with a hint of knowing understanding. He gave his shaggy head a meaningful shake. "Then you really shouldn't linger in this damned place. Believe me, I spent years wandering the East. It's a far more comfortable place than here."

He deliberately stressed the word "comfortable," drawing out the last syllable as though it concealed a thousand things left unsaid.

Liu Qian did not understand what he meant, but rather than ask why, he turned his gaze back to the Red Priestess waving her arms on the platform. "Do you know what she means by all this?"

The old man's face darkened at once, like the sea before a storm.

"If I were you," he said, lowering his voice with a severity that bordered on warning, "I'd keep my mouth shut and pretend I hadn't heard. Sail from the Jade Sea toward the Summer Sea, and you're bound to find these people in the port cities.

"They call themselves the Order of Starry Wisdom, also known as the Church of Starry Wisdom. When I was staying in Asshai, I often saw their acolytes and priests watching the stars and divining from the tops of towers. Sometimes, on nights when the sky was full of stars, they'd sing together, chanting strange prayers and making such a racket I couldn't sleep."

He spat in disgust. "Stay away from them, boy. Especially since you're from Yidi."

"What does being from Yidi have to do with it?" Liu Qian's brows drew tightly together.

The old man looked astonished. His little eyes widened as he looked Liu Qian up and down. "What? You don't know? The first priest of this order was that blood-drenched Bloodstone Emperor who brought on the Long Night. He founded this religion and spread disaster everywhere. When I was in Yidu, even three-year-olds in the streets and alleys could recite a few lines of that tale!"

His voice was filled with disbelief.

Liu Qian's heart jolted, but his expression did not change as he invented an answer. "I've traveled in the West with merchant caravans since childhood. I never had the chance to return to Yidi."

Inwardly, he frowned. The original owner of his body had been only a village blacksmith's apprentice, spending his days beside an anvil and forge. His parents had died young, and no one had taught him any of this.

As for his memories of the original books from his previous life, he could hardly remember every detail.

The old man narrowed his eyes and studied Liu Qian carefully. The boy's silk clothes were clean and crisp.

Looking at that eastern face, Marwyn found himself drifting into memories of his years in the Far East.

He asked gruffly, "Well then, boy from Yidi, do you mean to return to that unfamiliar homeland of yours, or stay in this dazzling world?"

Home? A pang pierced Liu Qian's heart. All his memories held were the ruins of a village drowned in Dothraki screams.

He looked warily at the sharp-tongued old man with his probing questions and did not answer. His gaze happened to pass over the chain hanging around the man's greasy neck, its links forged from different metals, reflecting the light of knowledge in the sun.

Liu Qian's gaze paused. Understanding dawned at once, and he switched immediately to fluent Common Tongue:

"Sir, forgive my presumption. The chain around your neck is quite distinctive. Is it a maester's chain awarded by the Citadel in Westeros? Are you from the Seven Kingdoms?"

The old man froze for a moment, then burst into loud, foul-smelling laughter, his breath reeking of wine and sourleaf. "Hahaha! A sharp eye. I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Marwyn, an archmaester of the Citadel."

Marwyn!

A shock ran through Liu Qian, though he did his utmost to keep his face calm.

That name carried considerable weight in his fragmented memories of the original books.

This man was no ordinary maester.

Marwyn was an important figure in the original story. Unlike the vast majority of the Citadel's maesters, he did not reject magic. Instead, he devoted himself to studying magic and the occult.

Liu Qian vividly remembered the details about him from the books.

Qyburn had told Jaime that Marwyn was the only archmaester at the Citadel who gave any credence to the existence of ghosts, and that Marwyn called the other maesters "grey sheep." After spending eight years in the Far East, Marwyn had returned to Oldtown, where Archmaester Wyllis, known as Sour Sam, had nicknamed him "Marwyn the Mage." Marwyn also suspected that the Citadel had played a disreputable role in the extinction of House Targaryen's dragons.

All this was enough to show that some disagreement existed between Marwyn and the Citadel-perhaps even a rift.

Liu Qian could not help thinking how wonderful it would be to have an experienced maester as an adviser while he built up his position in the Stepstones.

But the Citadel sent maesters to serve as advisers only to the lawful lords of the Seven Kingdoms. It certainly would not provide one to a foreigner who posed a threat to those kingdoms.

Apart from Qyburn, the only maester Liu Qian might have a chance of securing was the man before him: Archmaester Marwyn, whose outward ties to the Citadel belied his inner estrangement.

And an archmaester was more accomplished than a maester.

Only when a maester's knowledge in a particular field qualified him as a master would he be granted the title of archmaester.

Marwyn had no idea that the instant he spoke his name, Liu Qian had marked him as someone he had to win over.

A sincere, slightly respectful smile spread across Liu Qian's face. "Esteemed Archmaester Marwyn, my name is Liu Qian. I'm deeply honored that chance has brought us together today. If the opportunity arises, might I be allowed to visit you at the Citadel in Oldtown?"

Marwyn nodded, pleased by the eastern boy's respectful manner. "The Citadel's doors are open to those who seek knowledge. So you don't intend to return to Yidi?"

"That's right, Archmaester. I plan to travel through Westeros first," Liu Qian answered frankly.

Marwyn bared his dark red teeth in a grin. "A living man from Yi-

"-di, in Westeros? Ha! That's rarer than seeing a living dragon!"

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Archmaester?" Liu Qian asked, taking the opening.

"A dragon?" Marwyn shook his head, a pure thirst for knowledge flashing through his eyes. "No, I haven't. But I've seen their bones. If corpses could speak, they'd surely agree with what I just said. Your arrival in Westeros will certainly cause a stir."

There was a distinctive black humor in his tone.

Liu Qian laughed. "Your sense of humor must be very popular at the Citadel, Archmaester."

"Popular?" Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Marwyn angrily waved his short, thick arms, almost spraying spittle into Liu Qian's face. "Those sheep wrapped in grey robes would love nothing better than for me to die at sea in the Far East and feed the fish. If I do make it back alive, there'll be a roomful of sour, cutting remarks waiting for me, along with a pile of damned ugly nicknames. That's how those fellows console themselves when their malicious little hopes come to nothing!"

His resentment was almost palpable.

Liu Qian laughed inwardly, but his face showed sympathy. "It sounds as though you don't get along very well with your colleagues?"

"We get along appallingly!" Marwyn corrected firmly, his slab-like jaw tightening.

An enigmatic smile curved Liu Qian's lips. "Archmaester, you may not believe this, but my instincts have always been very accurate. I think I can guess what nickname they'll give you."

"Oh?" Marwyn's curiosity was thoroughly aroused. He leaned forward slightly, his cloudy eyes fixed on Liu Qian, even holding his breath. "Tell me! What is it?"

Liu Qian lowered his voice and, with a hint of mischief in his smile, clearly spoke that destined title:

"Marwyn the Mage..."