"But the gods have treated our king well enough. Without all these years of long summer, how would he have the leisure to eat, drink, and make merry?"
Gendry listened to their conversation, but the two men from the Vale fell silent after a few more exchanges. The men of the Vale had some respect for Blackfish; he was a legendary knight, after all. But the rigid knights of the Vale would never approve of a favorite like Littlefinger, who had risen so swiftly from humble origins.
Come to think of it, Jon Arryn's tenure as Hand of the King resembled Tywin's in his day: both had held great power for many years. Still, Jon and Robert were foster father and foster son, and King Robert was no extremist like the Mad King.
Gendry kept up appearances by taking a few more turns, then followed the crowd into another corner. He skirted the Street of Steel and, after leaving the Great Sept of Baelor, headed down Mud Gate Road toward the River Gate. He wound through King's Landing, savoring its bustling atmosphere. Thanks to the freedom of the long summer, the city was more prosperous and noisy than ever, and no one noticed a boy setting out to leave.
Gendry's life as a blacksmith's apprentice had been quite uneventful these past few years, and the Spider's informant had grown increasingly lax in watching him. No one was following him at all. Gendry even felt he had overestimated his own importance. After all, he ranked very low in the Spider's web.
On Mud Gate Road, farmers hauled fine corn and apples, knights rode tall horses, and foreigners of every description passed by. Gendry paid particular attention to the many different knights, who might represent different houses and factions.
Gendry saw the Gold Cloaks guarding the River Gate, dressed in black mail and golden cloaks. They were a lax force. He reached the docks without any trouble, wearing a hat that shaded his face and an iron mask of his own, though he could hardly be called the most conspicuous person there.
There were hundreds of docks near the River Gate, countless ships moored in the harbor, and crowds coming and going. Never mind him-even beautiful people from Lys, Tyroshi with purple beards, and people from the Summer Isles could be seen. The Gold Cloaks guarding the gate would merely take him for a visitor with an odd habit.
Gendry still needed to conceal his movements, not just from the Spider, but from Littlefinger as well. After all, the Master of the Four Stores, the Royal Accountant, the Royal Measurer, the heads of the Three Mints, the Harbormaster, the Tax Farmer, customs officials, the Wool Factor, the Road Toll Collector, the Shipmaster, the Wine Factor, and most of the others were Littlefinger's own people. He had informants on the docks too.
The damned thing was that, as he left the River Gate, Gendry encountered the king's procession again. Perhaps it truly was a coincidence. Beneath the crowned stag banner, protected by the White Knights, the king returned from hunting, reeking of wine. Had Gendry not moved quickly, the king's horse would almost have run him down again. As the Gold Cloaks angrily drove people aside, Gendry slipped away without drawing attention.
Gendry had already scouted out a spot on the docks. A merchant ship was loaded with goods from all over Westeros and would sail that day for Myr, across the Narrow Sea.
"Coming aboard, lad?" a Myrish sailor called loudly.
"Are you leaving right now?!"
"Yes. Sailing too late can be dangerous." Gendry paid his fare, then followed him aboard.
After another short wait, the ship set off. That was one advantage of midsummer. Autumn storms were the most terrifying, while summer was much gentler.
The merchant ship slowly pulled away from the riverbank, and King's Landing grew more distant.
Gendry saw the beautiful royal warships upstream on the Blackwater Rush. Then came the Red Keep, its towering walls visible to him. House Targaryen's red dragon on a black field had long since become a thing of the past, replaced by House Baratheon's crowned stag. No royal power lasted forever. For now, at least on the surface, this was House Baratheon's age.
"Glorious royal power, yet fragile royal power!" Standing by the rail, Gendry gazed at the banner in a trance.
This is my new beginning! Gendry thought. Staying in King's Landing had its advantages and disadvantages, but Essos, across the Narrow Sea, offered him a far wider world. There were plenty of people from Westeros there too.
"Boy, can you read?" Though Gendry stood alone in his hood, a tall, solitary boy still drew attention.
Gendry turned and saw an old man dressed in gray.
He was tall and slightly stooped, with many wrinkles around his prominent blue eyes. Though already old, he had more gray hair than white, and a smile always lingered at his lips, making him look like a grandfather little girls would adore.
Chapter 7: Qyburn and Gendry
"Farewell, King's Landing!" As the ship left port, Gendry also said goodbye to those beautiful vessels. Upstream on the Blackwater Rush lay magnificent golden royal warships with their sails furled. Deep-sea fishing boats and river rafts came and went, alongside merchant ships from the Narrow Sea, swan ships from the Summer Isles, and royal pleasure boats.
Gradually, Gendry caught sight of the Red Keep atop Aegon's Hill. It comprised seven enormous drum towers protected by iron defenses, an immense and forbidding keep, domed halls and covered bridges, barracks, dungeons, granaries, and thick defensive walls pierced with arrow slits, all built from pale red stone. The crowned stag flew proudly above the walls, rearing in triumph.
The two-masted sailing ship Gendry boarded, The Telescope, had sixty oars and two masts, and was also the fastest ship. Compared with the greedy Tyroshi and the lustful Lyseni, the Myrmen had a somewhat better reputation. With the hold packed full of goods, there were few passengers aboard.
Gendry let the old man see only his profile and the forbidding black iron mask. He lifted his face toward the spray, as though the brisk sea breeze could blow away his past.
"I know a few letters, but not many!" Gendry answered. The old man looked pleasant enough on the surface, but for some reason, Gendry found him a little strange.
"It hardly matters how many you know. You have a fine physique. Quite enviable." The old man came closer to examine Gendry's face, but the iron mask concealed his looks, leaving only his deep blue eyes visible. He studied his physical build and the proportions of his legs and body.
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen or fourteen!" Gendry added two years to his age.
"A strong, sturdy lad. You'll be true steel one day!" the old man praised softly. "I predict you'll grow to at least six feet four!"
"..." Gendry felt a chill creep over him. The old man's words sounded strange, almost like those of a human trafficker.
"Don't be afraid, child! I'm a scholar and a physician, so naturally I know a little more!" The old man smiled.
"May I ask your name?" Gendry's mouth felt dry.
"A name is only a label. Qyburn."
Gendry stared at the old man. No wonder he had taken an interest in him-he was assessing him as a subject for his research. Qyburn was obsessed with studying invincible warriors. Though immoral, his abilities were beyond question: medicine in one hand, necromancy in the other.
"Gendry!"
"A good name, though not a noble one. More a commoner's!" Qyburn considered it. "But your build and manner of speaking aren't entirely those of a commoner's child. You're interesting!"
"Thank you for the compliment!" Gendry said neutrally. Naturally, he was interested in Qyburn, but he had nothing to bargain with, so he might as well go along with things.
"What about your parents?"
"Dead!"
"My condolences. The Stranger treats all in this world equally!"
"Apart from the stench, the most striking things in King's Landing are its many banners: the red dragon on black, the crowned stag, the roaring lion. Across the Narrow Sea, though, it's a world of cheesemongers and butter sellers!" Qyburn stopped questioning Gendry and instead reminisced about the banners above the Red Keep. "I still remember the years when the Dragon Banner flew there."
"Then why did you leave King's Landing?" Gendry asked Qyburn.
"To feed myself, child. The lords I favored scorned and rejected me! The petty lords who accepted me were too weak. For survival and my dreams, I can only try my luck across the Narrow Sea!" Having said that, Qyburn turned to leave. "The wind here is too fierce for an old man like me. I'm going back to my cabin! Child, if you'd like to chat with an old man, you can come find me!"
"I would be honored!" Gendry watched the Deathly Maester leave.
The Telescope floated across the water like a dragonfly, its oars rising and falling in unison.
"That old man is strange, lad! He's like a piece of old wood. I think he envies the fire of your youth," the Myrish captain could not help murmuring.
"Thank you for the warning, Captain!" Gendry said gratefully.
Seeing Gendry's iron mask, the captain muttered a few more words to himself. Suspecting some sort of sores or scars beneath it, he stopped bothering him.
Gendry watched the waves rise on the sea. This was his first time aboard a large ship and his first time leaving King's Landing. Fortunately, he did not get seasick, and the journey was going fairly smoothly.
"The Spider!" The ship had already left King's Landing, and Gendry wondered how the Spider would feel upon learning he had run away. Probably without much emotion. After all, the Spider had three or four pieces in his hands. Occasionally losing the least important one would hardly matter.
"King's Landing doesn't just stink to high heaven. It reeks of the Spider and Littlefinger too. When I return, I'll deal with them both!" Gendry headed down to the cabins as well, to visit the legendary Maester Qyburn.
The chaos in King's Landing owed much to the Spider and Littlefinger's meddling. The Spider controlled information, and Littlefinger controlled money. King Robert and Hand Jon trusted them too much-or perhaps underestimated them. One was a eunuch, the other a petty noble. After all, great nobles had ruled the realm for thousands of years.
Gendry went below and pushed open Qyburn's door. The old man was reading by himself, with a cup of something hot on the table.
"I'm delighted you've come to see me!" Qyburn said happily. "For an old man, the vitality of the young is always a pleasure."
Gendry looked around Qyburn's cabin and found only a few books. There were also surgical instruments on the table: knives, chisels, thread, and milk of the poppy.
"It seems you really are a well-trained physician!" Physicians in this age had to cut into flesh with knives. They needed a butcher's mindset and strength.
"What did you do before?"
"I was a blacksmith, Master Qyburn!"
"A blacksmith? Oh, a great profession. But blacksmithing is exhausting, and Myrmen craftsmanship is more refined. You might not find a living there. Medicine may be bloody, but it earns you more and is more respectable. What place can do without physicians?" Qyburn pursed his lips.
On the table was an anatomical model Qyburn had built himself. Though crude, it showed the bones and various organs. Without some experience dissecting human bodies, he could never have understood them so clearly.
"The human body is vast and profound. I've studied medicine for a long time, yet its limits remain beyond me. I'm getting old, too, and cannot reach the future. Perhaps it's time to scatter a few sparks!" Qyburn said.
"Perhaps you should stay at the Citadel and continue your research!" Gendry said.
"Oh, please! That place is ruled by a flock of gray sheep. Why is the climate so unpredictable? Why are there White Walkers in the north? They serve to suppress knowledge, not create it. I only wanted to conduct a few experiments, and they drove me out. So I can only go across the Narrow Sea!"
"Are you interested in these things?" Qyburn picked up his scalpel and pointed at the skeletal model on the table. "I won't teach you those frightening experiments. If you're willing, I'll teach you proper medicine!"
"Why me?"
"It's simple. You're well suited to it. A strong young man makes a good physician too. We have to handle scalpels and splints; we cannot do without strength and vigor. Unfortunately, the young men of the Seven Kingdoms prefer riding and dueling to scalpels. Someone has to like medicine."
Chapter 8: A Conversation Aboard Ship and Ambition
With little wind or swell, The Telescope sailed swiftly but did not rock much. It would follow the coast of the Stormlands, then pass the near end of the Stepstones on its way to Myr.
The old man and the boy-the aged, mad maester and the sturdy young blacksmith-sat facing each other.
"Forgive my impertinence, child. I suspect you may be the product of a wild romance." Qyburn poured Gendry a cup of hot fruit juice.
"You needn't fear angering me, or put it so delicately. Master Qyburn, I am indeed a bastard. The truth is like a sharp blade, but sooner or later we all have to take a cut." Gendry did not mind. As a man of learning and experience, Qyburn was certainly among a rare few in the known world.
"It seems I guessed correctly. Don't be puzzled, child. Though I don't study noble history, I do study the human body, bloodlines, and heredity. Noble lords generally have good food and living conditions. Combined with their ancestral bloodlines, most are known for being tall and strong-the lions, stags, and direwolves, for instance." Qyburn fiddled with his anatomical model and showed it to Gendry.
"The alignment and wear of a person's teeth, whether they are tall or short, firm or flabby, along with their clothing and appearance, can often tell you whether they're noble or common—even a bastard. You're tall and well formed, yet alone, with cheap clothes and shoes and no jewels. Nobles wouldn't allow a Legitimate Son to become a blacksmith and travel alone. So the answer is obvious."
"You understand not only medicine, but observation too!" Gendry praised him. Qyburn truly was a shrewd man.
"I admire you more and more, Gendry! Frank and fearless. That's the bearing of a strong man. In fact, we share the same misfortune. I'm a bastard too! When I was in my teens, if someone called me a bastard, I still thought it malicious and humiliating. I'd feel angry, hurt, and even cry. In that respect, I can't match you." Qyburn laughed, then began telling his story.
"I was born into a minor noble household not far from Oldtown. You know the Reach is the granary of the Seven Kingdoms. It has the most people, and the most proud nobles of every description too. My mother was a washerwoman by the river, and somehow she ended up carrying her lord's seed. By the time I was in my teens, my father was long dead. My brothers gave me three choices. They would never allow a washerwoman's child to become a knight. They would give me some money: would I go to the Wall, the Citadel, or the Faith? The Wall was too cold, the Faith too dull, so in the end I chose to become a maester. Of course, I didn't have your physique. Otherwise, perhaps I could have become a blacksmith too." Qyburn joked with a smile.
"An eventful life, Master Qyburn!" Gendry said.
"I had already forged my chain and ring. I thought I would spend the rest of my life at the Citadel, but never expected to be driven out. I admit my experiments were somewhat immoral, but they concerned the very nature of the world!" Qyburn sighed.
"The nature of the world?" Gendry was puzzled by the phrase.
"Yes, child. The world's nature is magic and multiplicity, not science and truth as the Citadel proclaims. Magic moves the world, causing those shifts in climate, the flight of magic dragons, those wondrous bloodlines, and the legends of White Walkers in the north!" A fervent light shone in Qyburn's eyes. "But power also comes from within people themselves. The human body is a treasure trove. Combining medicine and magic can not only heal, but create invincible warriors."
"That's madness, Master Qyburn! You must be careful!"
"It's rather absurd to speak of it now. After leaving the Citadel, I first have to make a living, and I no longer have such fine facilities for experiments. Perhaps I'll join some obscure mercenary company. No one needs a mage, but they always need a physician." Qyburn reined in his ambitions and mocked himself.
"Those wondrous bloodlines you mentioned-what are they?" Gendry asked. That interested him; after all, he really did possess multiple bloodlines.
"Most nobles claim descent from gods or heroes, Garth Greenhand, the storm god, and so on, but only a few have actually manifested power. The bloodlines of House Targaryen, House Baratheon, House Stark, and House Martell all seem to possess some sort of magic. House Targaryen commands magic dragons, the Rhoynar blood inherited by House Martell could once summon great rivers, and House Baratheon's warriors are like storms.
"If their bloodlines could be awakened, perhaps we could create miraculous warriors like their ancestors. Unfortunately, those people are beyond my reach. Some exceptionally gifted ordinary people would do as well. I've heard Lord Tywin has a seven-foot giant serving him." That seven-foot giant was, of course, the Mountain, the most dangerous knight in the Seven Kingdoms.
"We can't afford to provoke those nobles." Gendry felt Qyburn might be obsessed, too deeply immersed in necromancy and those immoral experiments on living subjects.
"You're right, child. But I think there may yet be a chance to return to Westeros. By then, Westeros should be engulfed in war!" Qyburn said mysteriously.
"War!" Had Qyburn foreseen the war too?
"It's not just my guess, Gendry. Many people probably think the same. The king won the war, but failed to build on his victory. Robert gave Stannis Dragonstone for his service, and Renly Storm's End out of love.
"But the Stormlands belong to Renly, the youngest son, below the second son. Is there any legal basis for that? It will only make the younger brother arrogant in his favor. Stannis, the second brother, received Dragonstone, yet is full of resentment. And King Robert himself has the Crownlands. Seven above, the king could have considered uniting the Stormlands and the Crownlands. Then the royal house would have been unmatched, but he didn't. In name he's king, but in reality he's merely the leader of a grand alliance."
"There are so many ministers beneath the Iron Throne. Surely one or two can see the situation clearly?" Gendry asked deliberately.
"King's Landing has many ministers, but I don't think a single one can persuade our proud king!" Qyburn declared. "Wine and women are the king's greatest loves. As for everything else, leave it to the Seven and our old Arryn! After all, the realm has been left to old Arryn, and the court to the Lannisters. We've had the Unworthy, and now we have a merry king. The Unworthy was too eager to prove himself, while the merry king gives no thought to tomorrow or the future."
"But this is only my conjecture. After all, the grand alliance of wolf, fish, falcon, Deer, and lion remains the strongest on the surface. The only fear is that some ambitious men, kept awake by the wildfire burning within them, have taken a fancy to that deadly Iron Throne!"
"You mean Renly!"
"Hopefully not. I'm from the Reach, and I know Lord Renly seems far too close to the Reach. You see, House Tyrell happens to have been excluded from the inner circle too."
Before you continue