Clay had no intention of exposing his identity. He wanted to see just what tricks this Three-Eyed Crow, neither man nor ghost, was going to pull.
At least Clay could now be certain that Bran climbing the Broken Tower and stumbling upon the queen's tryst with the Kingslayer had been no accident.
Using the threads of magic growing from the Heart Tree, the Three-Eyed Crow had guided Bran through some means Clay could not comprehend.
Clay did not remember exactly when Bran had fallen in the original timeline. During his days in the dungeon, he had had no contact with the outside world and had lost his sense of time.
Perhaps Bran's climb was something that should already have happened, but Clay's series of actions had interfered with the Three-Eyed Crow's plans.
His drawing out large quantities of magic from the Heart Tree and snapping the magical threads had pushed the Three-Eyed Crow beyond his limits, making him intervene in person to play these supernatural tricks on Clay.
Clay reckoned he was probably wary of the entirely nonexistent god backing him, which was why he was saying things about bearing Clay no hostility. That suited him just fine, though. The more the crow imagined, the better it was for Clay.
"What do you want with that child?" Clay asked in return, mimicking the other man's indifferent tone.
The Three-Eyed Crow did not answer Clay's question. Trailing his long black robes, he slowly approached the iron chair covered in spikes.
He slowly climbed the steps and, under Clay's gaze, settled onto the Iron Throne as though he had done it thousands of times before.
Clay had to admit that this chair seemed to possess an extraordinary magic, making those standing below it feel awe despite themselves.
"There's no king here." Clay's voice was cold and hard.
"Indeed, but that doesn't matter," the Three-Eyed Crow said. He tightened his grip on the Iron Throne's armrests. Sharp blades sliced open his palms, spilling pale green blood, but he paid it no mind.
"I wish to make a deal with you, agent of a foreign god." His voice suddenly grew louder.
"Oh?" Clay was curious to hear what he would say.
"I will use my power to place you on this throne, on the condition that you allow the North its independence after you become king."
Clay's head was full of question marks. He almost suspected he had misheard. For a moment, he wondered whether this fellow had eaten too many weirwood seeds before coming here and was not thinking straight.
How many divisions do you have-no, what abilities do you have to boast like that? How come I never knew you were so powerful?
After holding back for a long while, Clay finally said:
"I don't think having you around means I can pull the Iron Throne out from under Robert Baratheon's arse."
"The stag is indeed strong and healthy now, his antlers sharp, but the gods have not given him a fawn to inherit his place."
As he said this, the Three-Eyed Crow's voice suddenly seemed much more distant, but inwardly Clay could only roll his eyes. Wasn't he just saying that none of Robert's three current legitimate children were his? Did he have to sound so much like a charlatan?
"I think you might as well say what you mean. There's no need to promise me castles in the air."
Frowning, the Three-Eyed Crow carefully considered what "castles in the air" meant and could only take it as an expression peculiar to the foreign god. That did not stop him from understanding Clay's meaning, however.
"Very well. Then let us speak of the present. I ask that you stop interfering with my actions concerning that boy from House Stark. In return, you may make one request of me, provided it is something I can do."
Tsk, what is this, another world's version of a magic wishing lamp? Clay shook his head and decided to ask for something a little outrageous.
"In that case, I want you to find me a dragon egg and tell me a way to hatch it. Can you do that?"
Clay studied the face that looked no different from driftwood, wanting to see what it would look like when its expression soured. To his surprise, the Three-Eyed Crow merely glanced at him and calmly nodded.
"Yes. If we strike this bargain, I will have Hodor, the stableboy at Winterfell, bring it to you. But this will take time. You will receive my gift at White Harbor."
"...?" Clay gaped, feeling that he had been far too hasty just now. He should have asked for a Gundam.
Though he was dying of curiosity, wanting to know how the crow would dig up a dragon egg for him in the North, complete with an instruction manual-er... a method to awaken it.
Clay had initially wondered why, since the crow knew how to do it, he did not do it himself. But when he thought of that ghastly appearance, and how his real body was probably hiding in a cave Beyond the Wall, he understood everything.
"Answer one question for me. If I'm satisfied, I'll agree to this deal," Clay said.
The Three-Eyed Crow nodded, waiting for Clay to continue.
"The same question as before. Why is Bran so important to you? Can't you find someone else? Why does it have to be him? What exactly is so special about him?"
The Three-Eyed Crow remained silent for a long time at this question. Just as Clay was beginning to grow impatient, he let out a quiet sigh and said with a bitter smile:
"He is the best candidate. You must understand that in all of Westeros, only the blood of wolves and dragons is special. Some among them are the finest vessels."
"North of the Wall, the Great Other's footsteps draw closer and closer, steadily squeezing the space left to the living. And east of the Narrow Sea, R'hllor's blazing radiance longs at every moment to set all of Westeros alight."
"Like you, I am an agent of a god. But as you can see, my body has almost rotted away. Bran is my best successor, and the best agent for my lord."
Mulling over these few statements packed with information, Clay asked in return:
"So you approached me, and even want to help me, because the power within me belongs neither to the Great Other nor to R'hllor, the Lord of Light?"
"You have ambitions for Westeros. That is enough."
"Aren't you worried that the god behind me might... well, seize your territory or your worshippers?"
"It doesn't matter. As I told you at the beginning, the North will be independent. My lord does not mind you and the god behind you occupying the south, because R'hllor's power must not expand any further. Otherwise, the entire world will fall out of balance."
"Aren't there still the Seven?"
"In my lord's words, they are seven fellows who cannot even stabilize their own states. It is impossible to count on them to resist R'hllor."
In the empty throne room, Clay could hear only his own breathing. Those few simple statements sent a storm howling through his mind.
He had originally thought that gods in the world of ice and fire were merely mascots. Only now, with the Three-Eyed Crow appearing to speak from personal experience, did Clay realize there was far more behind it all.
After thinking it over, Clay felt he could believe at most half of what the Three-Eyed Crow had said. If he believed it all, he would probably be taken for a complete ride.
Besides, he could not possibly agree to all the Three-Eyed Crow's conditions. If he really did, wouldn't his plan to create an army of witchers go bankrupt on the spot?
After pretending to hesitate for a long while, Clay sighed.
"Your terms are very good, but I can't agree to them entirely."
The Three-Eyed Crow's brows knitted once more.
A reminder to everyone: this wave of influenza A is nasty, so please take care. Your author typed this chapter while enduring a fever of 39 degrees. Please bear with me.