Chapter 143: The Mockingbird Feels the Net
The raven from Winterfell reached King's Landing beneath the cover of darkness.
Grand Maester Pycelle was sleeping when a nervous attendant knocked upon his chamber door.
"Grand Maester," the young man called. "A message from Queen Cersei. It bears her private seal."
Pycelle's eyes opened immediately.
The weariness vanished from his face.
"Bring it inside."
The attendant entered and presented the small roll of parchment. Pycelle waited until the door closed before breaking the golden seal.
The message was brief.
Jon Snow has warned Lord Stark against travelling south and has begun investigating the death of Lord Jon Arryn. He knows Arryn examined the histories of the great houses. Inform those who must know. Destroy this letter.
Pycelle read it three times.
His old hands began to tremble.
Jon Arryn had come to him during the final days of his life, asking questions about poisons, bloodlines and the physical traits passed from parents to their children.
When the Hand fell ill, Pycelle had recognised the symptoms.
He had also recognised an opportunity.
Maester Colemon's treatment might have saved Jon Arryn. Pycelle had dismissed the younger maester, taken control of the Hand's care and allowed the illness to worsen.
He had not administered the poison.
But he had allowed the Hand to die because he believed House Lannister would benefit from his silence.
Now a king beyond the Wall was searching through those final days.
A king with spies in places no one understood.
Pycelle rose, carried the parchment to a candle and held one corner over the flame. Fire consumed Cersei's warning until nothing remained except black ash.
Yet burning the message did nothing to remove the danger.
He dressed hurriedly and summoned one of his most trusted attendants.
"Carry a message to Lord Baelish," Pycelle ordered. "Tell him I require his presence before sunrise."
The attendant bowed.
"And Lord Varys?"
Pycelle hesitated.
If he informed Varys, the eunuch would begin asking questions.
If he did not, Varys would almost certainly discover the meeting anyway.
"Send for him as well."
The attendant departed.
Pycelle stood alone beside the dying candle.
For the first time since Jon Arryn's death, he wondered whether his loyalty to House Lannister would place his own head beneath an executioner's sword.
Petyr Baelish arrived first.
He entered Pycelle's chamber wearing a dark green doublet and an amused smile.
"Grand Maester," Littlefinger greeted. "It is an unusual hour for a lesson in medicine."
"This is not the time for your mockery."
"That serious?"
Pycelle glanced toward the closed door.
"A message arrived from Winterfell. Jon Snow is investigating Lord Arryn's death."
Littlefinger's smile remained unchanged.
Only his eyes reacted.
For the briefest moment, they sharpened.
Then the amusement returned.
"Jon Snow," he said. "The young king beyond the Wall."
"He warned Eddard Stark against coming south. He has instructed Stark to watch you."
"Me?"
Littlefinger placed one hand over his chest.
"I am wounded. We have never even met."
"The boy knows that Lord Arryn was examining royal bloodlines before his death."
Petyr walked slowly toward the fire.
"How?"
"I do not know."
"Did the queen's message explain?"
"No."
"Then perhaps Lord Stark told him."
"The message reached Winterfell before the royal party arrived."
That made Littlefinger pause.
Lysa's warning could have reached Ned Stark, but she knew nothing about the lineage book. She knew only what Petyr had instructed her to believe and repeat.
If Jon Snow knew about the book, the information had come from King's Landing.
Someone had been watching.
Someone Petyr had failed to notice.
The chamber door opened before he could ask another question.
Varys entered in flowing robes, his round face carrying an expression of mild curiosity.
"Grand Maester. Lord Baelish. How fortunate to find two members of the king's council discussing secret matters before dawn."
Littlefinger smiled.
"You appear disappointed that we began without you."
"Not disappointed. Merely surprised. Secrets generally possess the courtesy to wait for me."
Pycelle lowered his voice.
"Jon Snow is investigating Lord Arryn's death."
Varys became completely still.
Unlike Pycelle, he did not display fear.
Unlike Littlefinger, he did not pretend amusement.
He appeared fascinated.
"What precisely does he know?" Varys asked.
"That Lord Arryn visited several of the king's bastards and borrowed a book concerning the lineages of the great houses."
Varys studied Pycelle.
"And who informed Jon Snow?"
"That is what we are trying to determine," Littlefinger said.
"No," Varys replied gently. "You are trying to determine it. I am merely wondering how a king beyond the Wall placed eyes inside King's Landing without attracting my attention."
"You admit you know nothing of his agents?"
Varys looked at him.
"Would you find it comforting if I lied?"
Littlefinger's smile thinned.
Pycelle moved closer to them.
"We must act. Lord Arryn spoke to many people before his death."
"Yes," Petyr said. "And sudden action would announce that those people are important."
"He may already know they are important."
"Then our concern is no longer what Jon Snow knows," Varys said. "It is what he can prove."
Pycelle swallowed.
Varys noticed.
"Is there something you wish to confess, Grand Maester?"
"I have nothing to confess."
"Of course."
Littlefinger turned from the fire.
"Who else received the queen's warning?"
"No one," Pycelle answered. "She instructed me to inform those who needed to know."
"And you chose us."
"You both sit upon the small council."
"An explanation so reasonable that it almost sounds true."
Pycelle's face reddened.
"This is not a game."
Littlefinger's smile returned.
"Everything at court is a game."
Varys looked at him.
"Games are pleasant only while one understands the rules."
For a heartbeat, neither man spoke.
Littlefinger finally walked toward the door.
"I will examine Lord Arryn's remaining accounts and ensure that nothing has been overlooked."
Pycelle frowned.
"You mean to remove evidence."
"I said nothing of the kind."
"You rarely do," Varys murmured.
Petyr opened the door.
"If Jon Snow has sent agents into the capital, they will reveal themselves eventually."
"And if they do not?" Pycelle asked.
Littlefinger glanced back.
"Then we encourage them."
He departed with the same relaxed smile he had carried into the room.
It remained upon his face until he entered the empty corridor.
Then it disappeared.
Before sunrise, three orders passed through Littlefinger's network.
An old stableman who had helped Jon Arryn travel unnoticed through the city was to be sent away.
A clerk who had copied several pages from the lineage book was to be questioned.
A former servant of Lysa Arryn, hiding near Duskendale under another name, was to be found before anyone else reached him.
None of the orders mentioned murder.
They did not need to.
One floor above a tavern near the Street of Flour, a woman selling lamp oil received news of the first order.
She closed her shop early and passed a folded scrap of paper to a baker.
The baker delivered bread to a warehouse near the river.
The warehouse owner placed the message inside a sealed cargo ledger.
Before noon, the warning was travelling north through a chain of coded communications created by Mario's agents.
Littlefinger had begun moving his pieces.
But he did not know that someone was already counting every move.
The Winter's Titan sailed south through the Shivering Sea.
Its colossal hull divided the dark water like a mountain passing through the ocean. Steel propellers turned beneath the surface, driving the four-kilometre ship forward at a speed no vessel of Westeros could match.
Jon stood upon the command deck, watching the horizon.
Ghost lay beside him while Alex studied a collection of reports at the central table.
Unlike Jon, Alex wore no armour. He had chosen a heavy grey coat suitable for the northern cold, although a sword remained at his waist.
"You could have brought a smaller ship," Alex said without looking up.
"I could have."
"Ten ships would have reached White Harbor with less attention."
"I do not intend to arrive unnoticed."
Alex lifted his gaze.
"No. I suppose a four-kilometre floating city makes secrecy difficult."
Jon looked through the reinforced glass.
Below them, soldiers trained upon the open decks. Giants stood near the forward section, speaking with one another as engineers inspected the mechanisms securing their enormous weapons.
Farther inside the Titan, farms, workshops, housing sections and storage facilities continued operating as they did during every voyage.
The ship required no foreign sailors or outside assistance.
Every person aboard belonged to Winter's Heaven.
Jon had brought one thousand elite soldiers, ten giants, direwolves, healers, engineers, radio operators and the Titan's permanent crew.
He had deliberately left Val and Ygritte behind.
Val was needed to govern Winter's Heaven during his absence. Ygritte had protested far more loudly, but Jon required a commander he trusted to protect the capital and the northern territories.
This was not an invasion.
It was a royal visit.
Although the distinction could become very small if anyone threatened his family.
A radio operator approached and struck one fist against his chest.
"Your Grace, Head Mario has received an urgent coded report from King's Landing."
"Bring him."
Mario entered several minutes later, holding two translated messages.
"The situation has changed," he said.
Jon turned from the window.
"How?"
"Our agents detected movement within hours of Cersei's raven reaching the capital. Grand Maester Pycelle summoned Petyr Baelish and Varys before sunrise."
Alex closed the report in front of him.
"Cersei warned them."
"That is the most likely explanation," Mario said. "Soon after the meeting, three people connected to Jon Arryn's final investigation became targets."
He placed the messages upon the table.
"An old stableman, a clerk and one of Lysa Arryn's former servants."
"Are they alive?" Jon asked.
"For now. We removed the stableman before Baelish's men arrived. The clerk remains under observation. The servant is believed to be near Duskendale, but our agents have not reached him."
Alex read the first message.
"They acted quickly."
"They are frightened," Jon said.
Mario nodded.
"Should I order Baelish captured?"
"No."
"Your Grace, if he is directing these disappearances—"
"We still cannot prove that he murdered Jon Arryn."
Jon lifted one of the reports.
"Arresting a member of Robert's council inside King's Landing without undeniable evidence would allow him to present himself as a victim of foreign interference."
"He could flee," Mario warned.
"Then watch every road, harbour and gate. If he attempts to leave, follow him."
"And if he orders the witnesses killed?"
"Protect them without revealing our entire network."
Mario considered the command.
"That will be difficult."
"That is why I entrusted the work to you."
The slightest pride appeared in Mario's expression.
Alex leaned against the table.
"Why allow Baelish to continue moving?"
"A frightened enemy destroys evidence," Jon replied. "A desperate enemy creates new evidence."
He pointed toward the three names.
"Until yesterday, we knew these people might possess information. Now Baelish has confirmed their importance."
Mario looked down at the reports.
"Every person he targets reveals another connection."
"Exactly. Let the mockingbird move. We will discover where he lands."
A warning bell sounded throughout the command deck.
An officer turned from the weather station.
"Severe storm approaching from the east. Estimated contact in twenty minutes."
Mario glanced through the glass.
The horizon had disappeared behind a vast wall of black cloud.
Lightning flashed in the distance.
Alex walked closer to the window.
"That developed quickly."
"Storms over the northern sea often do," Jon said.
Another officer approached.
"Your Grace, shall we alter course?"
Jon examined the weather readings.
"No. Maintain our speed."
The officer saluted.
"As you command."
Alex watched the approaching darkness.
"You are confident."
"I helped design the Titan."
"That was not an answer."
"It was the only answer necessary."
The storm struck with enough force to destroy an ordinary fleet.
Winds screamed across the upper decks. Rain crashed against the Titan in sheets so thick that the ocean disappeared from view.
A wave rose before the ship like a moving wall.
It towered above smaller vessels that would have been swallowed without leaving wreckage behind.
The Winter's Titan did not turn.
It did not slow.
Its reinforced bow struck the wave.
Millions of litres of water exploded across the forward hull, surging harmlessly through drainage channels designed for far greater pressure.
The ship continued south.
Lightning split the sky.
Thunder shook the command tower, but the electric lights did not flicker. Sealed doors closed automatically across exposed sections, while pumps redirected collected water into filtration reservoirs.
Deep inside the Titan, enormous stabilising mechanisms adjusted to the movement of the sea. The ship's vast width prevented violent rolling, and its layered hull absorbed the force of each impact.
Jon did not weave hand signs.
He did not use Wood Style.
No seals were activated by his command, and no soldiers were sent to fight the sea.
The Titan needed none of it.
Alex stood beside Jon as another wave shattered against the hull.
"A storm like this would destroy an ordinary fleet."
Jon watched the water stream down the reinforced glass.
"That is why I did not build an ordinary ship."
A particularly violent gust struck one of the upper towers.
The tower remained unmoved.
Alex looked at the farms visible through the protected inner sections. Workers continued tending crops beneath glass-covered structures. Animals remained secured in their enclosures. Engineers monitored the ship's systems with disciplined calm.
"Most kings build castles to prove their strength," Alex said.
"Castles cannot move."
"No. Yours carries an army across the sea."
Jon glanced toward him.
"And enough food to keep it alive."
Alex laughed quietly.
"Spoken like a man who has listened to too many administrative reports."
"That is why you are here."
"I thought I was here because Val refused to leave the kingdom unattended."
"That as well."
A radio officer approached despite the storm raging outside.
"Your Grace, communication with Winter's Heaven remains stable. Head Val reports no disturbances."
"And Ygritte?"
The officer hesitated.
"Commander Ygritte requested that I remind you she still considers your decision an insult."
Alex looked away to hide his amusement.
"Did she say anything else?" Jon asked.
"Yes, Your Grace. She said that if southern assassins kill you, she will bring you back to life and kill you herself."
Ghost raised his head.
Jon remained silent for several seconds.
"Tell her I received the message."
The officer saluted and departed.
Alex finally allowed himself to smile.
"Diplomacy may prove easier in Winterfell."
"I doubt it."
Outside, the storm unleashed its full fury.
The Winter's Titan continued through it without changing course.
At Winterfell, Robert Baratheon sat before the hearth with a drinking horn in one hand.
The Stark children had been summoned to Ned's solar, although Rickon had fallen asleep in Catelyn's arms within minutes.
Robb stood beside Ned. Sansa and Arya sat near the fire, while Bran occupied a chair positioned close to the window so that he could occasionally glance at Jon's eagle in the courtyard.
Robert looked from one child to another.
"You have all seen Jon since he became a king."
"He visited Winterfell," Bran said eagerly.
"For one week," Robb added.
Robert drank from his horn.
"What manner of man did he become?"
"He is still Jon," Arya answered.
Robert frowned.
"That tells me nothing."
"It tells you more than you think," Robb said respectfully. "He did not return and demand that we bow. He treated us as his family."
"He made the guards bow," Arya said.
Robb looked at her.
"Because they were blocking the gate and insulting his people."
"They stopped after the giants arrived."
Robert laughed.
"I imagine they did."
He leaned back.
"Did Jon speak about his kingdom?"
"Only when Father asked him," Sansa answered. "He did not reveal many details."
"Why not?"
"Because some of his knowledge is dangerous," Robb said. "He believes it would cause wars if the wrong people obtained it."
Robert grunted.
"Every lord guards his smiths and gold mines."
"Jon guards more than smiths," Ned said. "The northern envoys saw only what he permitted them to see."
Robert looked at the children again.
"So none of you have visited Winter's Heaven?"
"No," Robb answered.
"But you rode his eagles."
Bran immediately leaned forward.
"We flew around Winterfell! Jon sat in front, and I could see beyond the wolfswood."
"You were not afraid?"
"Not when Jon was with us."
Robert turned toward Arya.
"And you trusted him?"
"Of course."
"To carry you into the sky upon a bird large enough to eat a horse?"
Arya glanced through the window at the enormous silver-feathered creature.
"Jon would never let us fall."
The answer came without hesitation.
Robert's amusement slowly faded.
He looked at Sansa.
"And you? What did you think of him?"
Sansa considered her reply.
"He was different."
"How?"
"He listened before speaking. Lords constantly tried to impress him, but he did not care about their titles. He watched how they treated their soldiers and servants."
Robert glanced at Ned.
"That sounds disturbingly like you."
"Jon is more ambitious," Ned replied.
"And less patient," Robb added.
Arya shook her head.
"He is patient until someone threatens us."
Robert raised an eyebrow.
"And then?"
Arya smiled.
"Then he is not."
Ned gave her a warning look, but Robert released a booming laugh.
"At least one Stark understands how kings should answer threats."
Sansa looked down at her hands.
"Jon does not enjoy frightening people."
Everyone turned toward her.
"He could have brought more giants during his last visit," she continued. "He could have displayed more weapons or forced every lord to kneel. He did not. But he made certain everyone understood that his people could not be threatened."
Robert studied her thoughtfully.
"You admire him."
"He is my brother."
The answer was composed, yet affection filled her voice.
Robert looked around the room.
Every one of Ned's children trusted Jon completely.
Not because of his crown.
Not because of his army, giants or impossible ship.
They trusted him because the boy they remembered had returned with the power of a king and still treated them as his family.
Robert emptied his horn.
"Twenty-four days," he muttered.
Ned frowned.
"What?"
"Until he arrives. Yesterday it was twenty-five."
Bran smiled.
"You are counting."
"I have waited long enough to meet this impossible son of yours."
The storm weakened shortly after midnight.
Mario returned to the command deck with a final report.
Jon stood over a map of King's Landing while Alex rested in a nearby chair.
"Our agents found another connection," Mario said. "A young apprentice working for a master armourer."
Jon's eyes moved to him.
"Name?"
"Gendry."
Alex straightened.
"One of Robert's bastards?"
"We believe so," Mario answered. "Black hair, blue eyes and an unusually strong resemblance to Robert in his youth. Jon Arryn visited the armoury before his death."
Jon studied the marked location.
"Does the boy know?"
"No. He believes his mother was an alehouse worker who died when he was young."
"Who paid his apprenticeship fee?"
"We are still investigating."
Mario placed a second message upon the map.
"There is another problem. Someone else has begun asking about him."
"Baelish?" Alex asked.
"We cannot confirm who issued the order. The men searching for Gendry are not part of the City Watch, and they have been instructed to remove him before dawn."
"Remove?" Alex repeated.
Mario's expression hardened.
"They were not told to bring him anywhere."
Jon looked toward the dark sea beyond the windows.
The enemy had panicked sooner than he expected.
"Send our nearest team."
"They may not reach the armoury first."
"Then warn the boy's master and close the street. Use a staged fire, a collapsed cart—anything that delays the attackers without exposing our network."
"And when they arrive?"
"Save Gendry."
Jon's gaze returned to the map.
"Capture whoever comes for him alive."
Mario struck one fist against his chest.
"At once, Your Grace."
He turned to leave, but Jon spoke again.
"Mario."
The intelligence chief stopped.
"Do not interrogate the captured men in King's Landing. Move them to the northern safe house. I want every name, payment and order traced before Baelish realises they failed."
Mario nodded and departed.
Alex approached the table.
"You still believe we should let the mockingbird move?"
Jon placed a marker upon Gendry's location.
"Yes."
"Even when people may die?"
"No."
Jon placed several more markers around the armoury.
"We let him believe he is free to move."
Far to the south, hidden men were closing upon an unsuspecting blacksmith's apprentice.
Other men watched from the darkness.
Petyr Baelish believed he was removing a dangerous piece from the board.
He did not yet understand that the board no longer belonged to him.
And before the night ended, the mockingbird would make his first mistake.
End of Chapter 143
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Author's Note
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