The sun sank into the fertile earth, and daylight faded.
Larys welcomed the fate shrouded in darkness with something close to joy.
He laid his cane across the ground before Baelon's feet and went down on one knee.
He opened his mouth.
A string of splendid, honeyed words was about to flow from his tongue. He was a consummate courtier.
He had a silver tongue.
But Larys's tongue defied his will and made no sound.
After a long while, he heard himself say, "Please grant me this honor."
"My lord."
His voice was hoarse and dry, as though squeezed out of his throat.
Baelon hurriedly took him in both hands and helped him up.
Larys's back straightened further and further, an invisible strength filling his body.
Larys Strong thought that he had not pledged his loyalty to Prince Baelon.
He had merely made a bargain with Prince Baelon.
He would give everything, and Prince Baelon would grant him an unimaginably expansive life.
Baelon took out his own golden cup and tipped the Golden Pitcher, filling the cup reserved for the prince to the brim with crimson wine.
He lifted the wine, offered it to Larys, and clinked his golden cup against his. "Come, Larys. Drink your fill and enjoy the wine."
"I promise you, your cup will always be full and will never run dry."
"Keep this cup."
Larys accepted the overflowing cup with both hands, tilted his head back, and drank deeply.
The wine moistened his parched throat. He did not sip calmly as he usually did, watching everyone's expressions over his cup and pondering their thoughts.
He drank in great gulps, too quickly, and wine trickled down his chin.
The unfamiliar exhilaration made Larys wish this cup of wine would never end.
But at last, the golden cup was drained.
Baelon sat back in his chair and toyed with the chipped Dragonbone Dagger, its blade flashing bright white.
"How much do you know about the kingdom of the Three Daughters?"
"The Three Whores Kingdom?" His surging emotions prompted a derisive laugh from Larys.
"It is an enormous Wheel Palace. Unfortunately, thirty-three horses pull it, and every horse has its own direction."
His bright, keen eyes fixed on Baelon. "The Wheel Palace lacks a true king."
Baelon nodded. "Slow to react."
The kingdom of the Three Daughters, the Free Trade Federal Alliance formed by Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh, had all its major affairs deliberated by a Supreme Council of thirty-three Governors.
He had heard that every Governor competed to speak before the Supreme Council, whether to flaunt his foresight and insight, demonstrate his standing, or serve his own city's interests.
War? Peace?
Matters of such importance required even more discussion by the Supreme Council.
Westeros's advantage, meanwhile, lay in the Seven Kingdoms being united under the Iron Throne.
The Triarchy appeared democratic and free, but in wartime, the Iron Throne would respond more quickly and nimbly.
"Pentos, Qohor, and Volantis are deeply troubled by the rise of the Three Whores Kingdom."
"Compared with Westeros, the Free Cities bordering the Three Daughters are far more worried," Larys said.
"Besides, when it comes to dividing the spoils within the Three Daughters, heh..."
His lips curved. "The admirals in the Stepstones compete to plunder merchant ships, each trying to outdo the others."
Baelon smiled. "What do you need? Gold dragons? Rare treasures?"
"Take whatever you please."
"So long as I have it."
Larys rose and bowed, then raised his head with an excited smile.
Spreading rumors, instilling ambition in the ambitious, sowing suspicion among the suspicious-these were his strengths.
As the night deepened, the two ended their conversation, both thoroughly satisfied.
Baelon tapped a finger lightly on the tabletop. One last matter remained.
How had Larys entered his bedchamber?
He was certain there were no secret passages in his room.
It was simple. When he was not in his bedchamber, there were no guards outside it.
He said frankly, "Larys, you did me another great favor tonight."
"You reminded me."
Larys looked puzzled.
"It seems I will need guards outside my bedchamber at all times. I certainly don't want to open the door one day and find someone waiting inside with a knife."
After tonight, he would certainly add guards.
With someone as clever as Larys, rather than wait for him to notice and imagine a string of plots and schemes, or have Baelon rack his brains for excuses to try to deceive him...
It was better to explain plainly and openly from the start.
Larys paused, then curled his lips. "Prince Baelon, I am curious as well."
"The instant you opened the door, you knew someone was in the room. How did you do it? I wonder whether you might enlighten me."
Baelon smiled and shook his head. "That is my secret."
"But, Larys, you share every secret with me."
"I can tell you."
He pointed beneath the bed, bent down, and beckoned for Larys to look with him.
Larys bent over. Beneath the bed was darkness, with only a pair of golden feline eyes gleaming.
"Come out, Balerion!" Baelon stroked the little black cat beneath the bed.
The little black cat shrank farther under the bed, his round eyes fixed intently on Larys.
"A cat?"
Larys looked thoughtful. "You keep many cats, hunting hounds, and trained falcons."
"Balerion is the most timid of all the cats," Baelon explained.
"But cats have keen hearing. Balerion can recognize my footsteps. Every time I open the door, he comes to greet me."
"But once a stranger enters my room, Balerion gets frightened and hides."
Understanding dawned on Larys. "So that is it."
He only needed to see whether a cat came to greet him when he opened the door to know whether someone was hiding inside.
"Thank you for enlightening me."
As the night deepened, Larys rose to take his leave.
Baelon suddenly said, "Larys, have you told Lord Lyonel that you have become Master of Whisperers?"
Larys shook his head. "He does not know yet. I asked the craftsman making the chair to keep it secret."
He... he wanted to tell his father in person, but he had yet to think of how to begin.
"Then would you like to make a wager with me?" Baelon asked.
"What?"
"Do not tell Lord Lyonel until he sees you at the Small Council tomorrow."
"I wager Lord Lyonel's eyes will go wide tomorrow when he sees you seated at the same table as him."
The corners of Larys's mouth fell, and he quietly shook his head.
His father had never shown him anything but sternness and regret.
"I wager this dagger." Baelon smiled and waved the Dragonbone Dagger in his hand.
Larys smiled faintly, reason still holding the high ground in his mind. "I will not wager. Is that not obvious, my prince?"
"Of course he will be shocked."
Baelon shrugged helplessly. A shame he had failed to get something for nothing.
Larys opened the door and limped out. The two guards stationed outside stared wide-eyed.
Larys Strong?
When had he gone inside?!
The room fell silent.
The smile faded from Baelon's face. Larys Strong.
A man who had poisoned Aegon in the original story, a skilled performer-had he truly won his loyalty?
Baelon chuckled. Loyalty? Allegiance?
Those things were not so important to him.
As long as Larys's abilities were useful to him, that was enough.
Balerion gradually stopped being afraid and crawled out from under the bed.
Baelon stroked the poor little black cat and took a few pieces of dried meat from a tin box. "You were terrified, weren't you?"
After petting the cat, Baelon washed up and climbed into bed.
Tomorrow would be his first time attending the Small Council.
He could hardly wait to meet the great ministers of the Seven Kingdoms.
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