Chapter 145: The Mockingbird's Three Lies
Petyr Baelish had always believed that a lie was most useful when it contained enough truth to be believed.
A complete invention invited suspicion. A carefully shaped truth invited action.
That was why he had released three different reports concerning Lysa Arryn's missing servant.
To one branch of his network, he claimed the man had fled to Maidenpool.
Another heard that he had boarded a ship bound for Gulltown.
The third was told that he had hidden inside an abandoned sept north of Duskendale.
Only a handful of people knew each location, and every branch was now being watched.
If the mysterious agents who had rescued Gendry appeared at one of them, Petyr would discover which part of his network had been compromised.
It was a simple trap.
Yet two days passed without a single disturbance.
No strangers entered Maidenpool asking questions about a frightened Vale servant.
No unusual ship appeared near Gulltown.
No armed men approached the abandoned sept.
The watchers Petyr had placed at all three locations reported nothing.
That troubled him.
Littlefinger stood beside the window of his solar, looking down upon King's Landing. Merchants, beggars, knights and thieves crowded the streets below, each pursuing desires they barely understood.
Behind him, a thin man wearing the clothing of a successful spice merchant waited nervously.
"Nothing?" Petyr asked.
"Nothing, my lord."
"No travellers asking about the Eyrie?"
"None."
"No northern accents?"
"No."
"What about the sept?"
"One shepherd passed it yesterday. He allowed his goats to graze nearby and then continued south."
"Did your men question him?"
The merchant hesitated.
"They followed him for several miles. He was only a shepherd."
Petyr turned from the window.
"Only a shepherd," he repeated.
The merchant shifted uncomfortably.
"Should we continue watching the locations?"
"No."
"My lord?"
"Withdraw every watcher before sunset."
The man frowned. "But if the enemy arrives after—"
"They will not."
Littlefinger moved to the table, where three small wooden birds rested upon a map.
"They already know the locations are false."
"How?"
"That is the question."
Perhaps someone within his network had warned them of the trap. Perhaps they were watching the couriers rather than listening to the messages. Perhaps they had identified all three branches and realised that the sudden appearance of three different destinations was too convenient.
Whatever the answer, the enemy had refused to move.
That meant they possessed patience.
Patience was more dangerous than boldness.
"From now on, no written orders concerning Jon Arryn, his servants or Robert's bastards," Petyr said.
The merchant nodded.
"Important instructions will be spoken once and never repeated. Each intermediary will know only the person immediately above and below him."
"And the businesses?"
"Close the Painted Cup for seven days. Claim that the owner is ill. Move the account books from the brothel near the Mud Gate."
"To where?"
Petyr smiled faintly.
"If you knew, the precaution would have little value."
The merchant bowed and hurried away.
When the door closed, Petyr's smile disappeared.
He had spent years spreading influence through King's Landing. Brothels, gambling halls, merchants, guardsmen, lenders and servants carried pieces of his will without ever seeing the whole design.
Now someone was studying those pieces.
Varys remained the most likely opponent. The eunuch had ears inside walls and eyes beneath tables.
Yet the rescue at Tobho Mott's forge had not felt like Varys.
The false northern merchant's wagon had been deliberate. The woman leading the operation had seen one of Varys's little birds and allowed the child to follow.
Someone had wanted the Spider to notice the northern trail.
The implication was unsettling.
There were not two players moving against each other.
There were three.
Varys.
Petyr.
And a hidden network whose reach stretched from King's Landing to a young king sailing upon the Shivering Sea.
Petyr picked up the wooden bird resting upon Duskendale.
The servant was already gone. His men had reached the cottage and found blood, bodies and an empty hiding place.
Whoever controlled the hidden network had known where the real witness was before Petyr released his three lies.
Jon Snow could not have achieved such reach in a few days.
But the impossible had a habit of becoming possible around the young king beyond the Wall.
"Who are you?" Petyr whispered.
The wooden mockingbird offered no answer.
Mario's agents had not travelled toward Maidenpool, Gulltown or the abandoned sept.
They had watched the men waiting at those locations.
The watcher in Maidenpool returned to King's Landing and entered a brothel owned through three false names.
The man stationed in Gulltown met a moneylender who regularly transferred coin to a shipping merchant connected to Petyr Baelish.
The third watcher departed the abandoned sept, changed horses twice and delivered a verbal report to the spice merchant who had just left Littlefinger's solar.
None had been arrested.
None had even realised they were being followed.
The information passed through coded radio relays until it reached the Winter's Titan.
Inside the ship's command room, Mario placed three reports upon the navigation table.
"The rumours were false," he said. "As you expected."
Jon looked over the reports while the immense ship continued south.
Outside, the sea had calmed after the storm. Smaller escort vessels travelled beside the Titan, appearing like children's toys against its colossal hull.
Alex stood opposite Jon.
"So Baelish achieved nothing?"
"He achieved something," Mario answered. "He confirmed that whoever rescued Gendry did not react to the information passing through his network."
Jon examined the first report.
"And he gave us three new connections."
Mario nodded. "The men watching those locations led our agents to a brothel, a moneylender and a merchant."
Alex smiled.
"He gave us three false trails."
Jon moved three markers across the map.
"Then he also gave us three men who expected those trails to be followed."
"Should we capture them?" Mario asked.
"No."
"They may disappear now that the trap has failed."
"Some will," Jon said. "Baelish will close businesses, move records and change his messengers. Let him."
Alex frowned. "Why allow him to destroy evidence?"
"Because frightened men make mistakes while protecting what matters most. If we seize his lesser agents now, we gain a few names. If we watch where they run, we may discover the people above them."
Mario considered the answer.
"He may also feed us more false information."
"He will," Jon replied. "From now on, every message passing through his network must be treated as though he wrote it specifically for us."
Alex rested both hands upon the table.
"So he knows he is being watched."
"Yes."
"And we know that he knows."
Jon's lips curved faintly.
"That is when an intelligence war becomes interesting."
Mario placed another report before him.
"This concerns Lysa Arryn's former servant. He has been moved twice since the cottage. Our people believe Baelish's surviving agents have lost the trail."
"Where is he now?"
"Only the commander protecting him knows the exact location. Even I requested that it not be included in the radio message."
"Good."
"The servant has also provided a fuller statement."
Jon opened the report.
The testimony described Lysa receiving a concealed letter and a small bottle several days before her husband fell ill. She had dismissed most of Jon Arryn's attendants, carried his wine and medicine herself, and burned the letter after reading it repeatedly.
When Jon Arryn's condition worsened, Lysa had not appeared surprised.
She had appeared relieved.
Mario continued, "The servant remembers Lady Arryn ordering him never to speak of the messenger. He also heard her say something while standing outside her husband's chamber."
"What?" Alex asked.
Mario looked at the report.
"Soon we will be free."
Alex's expression darkened.
"She poisoned him."
"Almost certainly," Jon said.
"Almost?"
"We know she received a bottle through a man connected to Baelish. We know she dismissed servants and personally attended Jon Arryn. We know she expected freedom from his death. But the witness did not see her pour poison into his wine."
"How much more proof do you require?"
"Enough that Baelish cannot dismiss the servant as a frightened liar purchased by an enemy."
Mario nodded slowly.
"The original letter would be enough."
"If it still exists."
"Lysa burned the letter she received."
"She burned one letter," Jon corrected. "A woman willing to murder her husband for Petyr Baelish may have preserved others."
Alex stared at him.
"You believe Baelish wrote to her before the murder."
"He would have guided her carefully. Lysa is emotional, unstable and desperate for affection. Baelish would not trust such a woman to understand the entire plan without instruction."
"And if she kept his letters?"
"Then Baelish's greatest weakness may be the woman who loves him."
Jon turned toward Mario.
"Do not send anyone into the Eyrie yet. Baelish will expect movement around Lysa. Watch the roads, merchants and ravens entering the Vale. Learn who carries messages to her."
Mario bowed.
"And the servant?"
"Keep him alive, comfortable and separate from every other witness. Tell him that cooperation earns protection, not freedom. We cannot allow him to vanish."
After Mario departed, Alex looked at the maps.
"How many days until Winterfell?"
"Approximately twenty-three if the sea remains calm and the unloading goes according to plan."
"You could reach it much sooner on an eagle."
"I could."
"Yet you insist on arriving with the Titan."
Jon looked toward the window and the endless blue beyond it.
"Robert asked to see giants. It would be discourteous to disappoint him."
Alex laughed.
"I almost pity the king."
"Do not. He requested the visit."
Sansa stood before the door to Ned's solar for several moments without knocking.
Arya waited beside her.
"You said you wanted to tell him," Arya said.
"I do."
"Then knock."
Sansa glared at her. "I know how doors work."
Arya raised both hands.
"Then show me."
Sansa took a breath and knocked.
"Enter," Ned called.
He sat behind his table with Catelyn beside the window. Several letters lay open before him, including the most recent report from White Harbor concerning the Winter's Titan.
Ned looked surprised to see both daughters together.
"Is something wrong?"
Sansa stepped inside.
"I need to speak with you, Father."
Arya closed the door.
Ned immediately put down the letter.
"What happened?"
Sansa had imagined this conversation several times while walking through the keep. In every version, she spoke calmly and clearly.
Now the words caught in her throat.
Catelyn approached her.
"Sansa?"
"I do not wish to marry Prince Joffrey."
Silence followed.
Ned's expression did not change immediately, but Catelyn's eyes widened.
"This is sudden," her mother said. "Only a few days ago—"
"I know what I said before."
"What changed?" Ned asked.
Sansa looked at him gratefully. There was no dismissal in his voice.
"I saw Joffrey beating a stable boy with a riding crop. The boy had spilled mud upon his saddle because a horse kicked over a bucket."
Catelyn frowned. "Did the prince injure him?"
"He struck his face. He would have continued if I had not spoken."
Arya stepped forward.
"I saw it too."
Ned looked toward her.
"He stopped when Sansa told him to, but only because everyone was watching," Arya said. "He smiled as though he had done nothing."
Sansa nodded.
"That was what frightened me. He was angry until he saw me. Then he became courteous immediately. He knew he was being cruel. He simply did not want others to see it."
Catelyn rested one hand upon Sansa's shoulder.
"Robert will not receive this well."
Ned's face hardened.
"My daughter is not a price to be paid for a king's friendship."
"I did not say she was," Catelyn answered. "But rejecting the crown prince before the entire court could insult the king and humiliate the queen."
"I do not want to humiliate anyone," Sansa said. "But I do not want to marry him."
"Then you will not," Ned answered.
Sansa stared at him.
"Truly?"
"Marriage is long, Sansa. Longer still when joined to a cruel man. I will not force you into it."
Relief struck her so suddenly that her eyes filled with tears.
She crossed the room and embraced him.
"Thank you, Father."
Ned held her for a moment before looking at Arya.
"And you came to support your sister?"
Arya shrugged awkwardly.
"She was right."
Sansa pulled away and wiped her eyes.
"Did Jon know?"
Ned became still.
"Know what?"
"That Joffrey was cruel. Jon warned you against the betrothal before he even came to Winterfell."
Catelyn and Ned exchanged a glance.
"Jon possesses reasons to distrust the royal family," Ned said carefully.
"What reasons?"
"I cannot tell you yet."
"You mean you will not."
"Yes."
Sansa's expression tightened, but she nodded.
"Then I will wait until he arrives and ask him myself."
Ned almost smiled.
"You may discover that Jon is even more stubborn about his secrets than I am."
"Then I will keep asking."
"That," Arya said, "I would like to see."
Robert's laughter did not fill the solar when Ned told him.
Instead, the king stood silently before the fire.
Cersei sat nearby, her green eyes fixed upon Ned with cold suspicion. Jaime leaned against the wall, while Joffrey stood beside his mother.
"You want to end the betrothal over a stable boy?" Cersei asked.
"Sansa wants to end it," Ned replied.
"She is a child. Children become frightened and change their minds."
"She understood clearly what she saw."
Cersei looked at Sansa.
"And what exactly did you see?"
Sansa clasped her hands before her.
"Prince Joffrey struck a stable boy repeatedly with a riding crop."
Joffrey stepped forward.
"He ruined my saddle."
"It had mud upon it," Sansa said.
"He failed in his duty."
"The horse kicked the bucket."
Cersei's mouth tightened.
"She has clearly been influenced."
"By whom?" Robert asked.
"Jon Snow."
Sansa looked directly at the queen.
"Jon did not strike the boy. Joffrey did."
Robert's head turned sharply toward her.
Jaime raised one eyebrow.
Even Arya appeared surprised by her sister's firmness.
Cersei rose.
"You forget to whom you speak."
"No," Sansa answered, though her voice trembled. "I know you are the queen. But you asked what happened."
Robert released a sudden bark of laughter.
Cersei glared at him.
"You find this amusing?"
"I find it amusing that the girl has more courage than half my council."
He turned toward Joffrey.
"Bring the stable boy."
Joffrey's face paled slightly.
"There is no reason to trouble him."
"I did not ask whether there was a reason."
The boy was summoned ten minutes later. He entered shaking so badly that he could barely bow.
Robert studied the dark red mark across his cheek.
"Did my son strike you?"
The stable boy looked at Joffrey.
"No, Your Grace."
Robert's expression darkened.
"Look at me."
The boy obeyed.
"I am your king. Lie again, and you will answer for it. Did Joffrey strike you?"
The boy's lips trembled.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"How many times?"
"Three. He raised the crop again, but Lady Sansa stopped him."
Robert turned toward his son.
"Did he attack you?"
"No."
"Threaten you?"
"No."
"Steal from you?"
"No, Father, but—"
Robert struck Joffrey across the face.
The sound filled the room.
Cersei rushed forward.
"How dare you!"
"I am his father and his king."
"You humiliate your own heir before servants!"
"He humiliated himself."
Joffrey held his cheek, hatred burning behind his eyes.
Robert pointed toward the stable boy.
"Apologise."
Joffrey did not move.
"Now."
"I apologise," he muttered.
"Louder."
"I apologise for striking you."
The stable boy bowed rapidly.
Robert waved him away.
When the door closed, Cersei turned upon Sansa.
"This foolish display began because Jon Snow filled your head with poison."
Sansa shook her head.
"Jon told Father to be cautious. I chose this after seeing Joffrey myself."
"The betrothal stands," Cersei declared.
Robert looked at her.
"No."
Her face froze.
"I will not end it today," Robert continued. "Nor will I force it forward. The matter is postponed until Jon arrives."
Ned frowned.
"Sansa has already given her answer."
"And I heard it. But Snow knows something, and I intend to drag it from him when he arrives."
Cersei stepped closer to Robert.
"You allow a bastard from beyond the Wall to decide whom the crown prince marries?"
"I allow no one to decide for me."
"Then decide."
"I just did."
Cersei left without another word.
Joffrey followed her, but before reaching the door, he looked back at Sansa.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
Sansa remembered the smile he had worn in the courtyard.
This time, however, she did not lower her eyes.
That evening, Cersei stood near the window of her chamber while one of her attendants waited behind her.
"The eagle eats only what the Starks provide?" she asked.
"Usually, Your Grace. Sheep, deer and sometimes entire sides of beef."
"And no one approaches it?"
"The Stark children do. The creature recognises them."
Cersei looked into the courtyard.
The giant eagle rested beyond the outer wall, its body rising higher than a house. Even with its wings folded, it possessed a terrible majesty. Soldiers avoided walking too close, and horses became restless whenever its golden eyes moved toward them.
"Can it be poisoned?" she asked.
Jaime, standing near the door, straightened.
"Do not."
Cersei turned.
"I asked a question."
"And I gave you an answer."
"It is an animal."
"It belongs to Jon Snow."
"So does half the wilderness beyond the Wall, according to his stories."
Jaime approached her.
"That creature carried his letter across thousands of miles and returned to Winterfell without guidance. It understands more than an ordinary animal."
"Then I should understand what can kill it."
"If you harm the eagle, Jon will know someone in Winterfell did it."
"He is still weeks away."
"He could fly here in days."
Cersei looked again at the enormous creature.
"I do not intend to kill it. I merely want to test its strength."
Jaime's expression became cold.
"Those are often the last words spoken by people who test dangerous creatures."
Cersei dismissed him with a glance.
Later, after Jaime departed, she gave the attendant a quiet order.
A trusted man carried several large pieces of meat into the eagle's feeding ground. The flesh had been treated with enough sleeping poison to kill several horses.
He waited until no guards were facing him, then tossed the meat near the creature.
The eagle lowered its immense head.
A sparrow watched from the roof of a nearby tower.
No one paid attention to it.
Far away aboard the Winter's Titan, Jon sat alone within his chamber, his physical eyes closed.
His mind rested behind the sparrow's tiny black eyes.
He had been observing Winterfell in short intervals for several days, moving between common birds whenever curiosity overcame him.
No one knew.
Not Ned.
Not Arya.
Not even Alex.
Through the sparrow, Jon watched the nervous man retreat as the eagle swallowed the poisoned meat.
The man waited.
So did Jon.
Nothing happened.
The eagle merely opened its beak, released a low rumble and searched the ground for more.
Jon nearly laughed.
The eagle had grown within Winter's Heaven, nourished by food rich in natural energy and strengthened far beyond any ordinary creature. Its resistance to poison was monstrous.
The sleeping poison might have killed ten men.
To the eagle, it was an unpleasant seasoning.
The man's confidence slowly turned to confusion.
After several minutes, he left the feeding ground.
The sparrow followed.
It fluttered from roof to roof, passing unnoticed through the fading evening light. The man entered the royal guest quarters through a side door and spoke briefly with one of Cersei's attendants.
That was not complete proof.
But it was enough.
The queen, most likely.
Jon felt no anger.
The eagle had never been in danger, and Cersei's little test had revealed more about her than it had revealed about the creature.
The sparrow continued along a stone ledge until it reached an open window.
Inside stood Cersei Lannister.
Golden hair fell across her shoulders, catching the firelight like molten gold. Her green eyes remained fixed upon the courtyard. Pride shaped the angle of her chin and every controlled movement of her body.
Jon silently studied her.
He had heard songs and descriptions of Cersei's beauty. None had exaggerated it.
So that is the Lion Queen.
Beautiful, proud and dangerous.
Exactly the sort of woman a wiser man would avoid.
Jon had never claimed to be wise where beautiful women were concerned.
A slow smile appeared upon his physical face aboard the Titan.
Cersei suddenly turned toward the window.
For one strange moment, her gaze settled upon the sparrow.
Jon remained still.
She could not know that another pair of eyes looked through the tiny bird. She could not know that Jon Snow was studying her from a ship thousands of miles away.
Still, something in the sparrow's unmoving stare disturbed her.
She stepped closer.
The sparrow flew away.
Jon released the bird and opened his own eyes aboard the Titan.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
The queen had tried to poison his eagle, failed completely and then stood before his borrowed eyes as if presenting herself for inspection.
He would keep all of it to himself.
The poison.
The sparrow.
The warging.
And his first thoughts concerning the Lion Queen.
Some secrets were useful.
Others were simply enjoyable.
Within the Eyrie, Lysa Arryn read Petyr's warning with trembling hands.
The servant survived.
Someone is investigating Jon's death.
Destroy every message. Speak to no one. Trust only those carrying the proper sign.
She read the words again.
Then a third time.
Her breathing became shallow.
They knew.
Someone had found the servant who saw the bottle.
Someone might already know about Petyr's messenger.
The chamber door opened, and little Robert Arryn entered clutching a wooden doll.
"Mother?"
Lysa quickly folded the letter.
"What are you doing here?"
"I could not sleep."
She forced a smile and held out one arm.
"Come to me, Sweetrobin."
Robert climbed onto the bed beside her.
"Are the bad men coming?"
"No."
"You look frightened."
"I am not frightened."
"Will Lord Stark come?"
"No one will take you from me."
"Will Petyr come?"
Lysa stiffened.
Robert looked up at her.
"You speak his name while you sleep."
"Do not say that to anyone."
"Why?"
"Because it is our secret."
After the boy finally fell asleep, Lysa carried Petyr's message to the fire.
She held it above the flames.
Petyr had ordered her to destroy every letter.
He had warned her many times that written words could become weapons.
But the letters were not evidence to her.
They were memories.
Promises.
Proof that Petyr had loved her when her father forced her to marry an old man.
Proof that one day he would come to the Eyrie and make her his wife.
She withdrew the parchment from the flame before it caught.
Moving silently, Lysa crossed the chamber and unlocked a chest hidden behind a hanging tapestry.
Inside rested dresses, jewellery and a smaller iron box.
She opened it.
Dozens of letters lay within.
Some were years old. Others had arrived only months before Jon Arryn's death.
Her fingers found one sealed with a tiny mockingbird pressed into pale wax.
It was the letter that had accompanied the bottle.
Petyr had instructed her carefully.
A few drops in Jon's wine.
Dismiss the servants.
Allow Grand Maester Pycelle to treat him.
When the fever worsened, send word to Petyr.
After Jon's death, take Robert and flee to the safety of the Eyrie.
At the bottom, Petyr had written the words Lysa treasured above all others.
Soon, my love, we will be free.
She pressed the letter against her chest.
He had ordered her to burn every word he had ever written.
But these were not merely letters.
They were proof of his love.
And Lysa Arryn would sooner burn the Eyrie than destroy the promises Petyr had made to her.
She placed the letter inside the iron box and locked it.
Far away, Jon Snow's agents searched for evidence connecting the mockingbird to Jon Arryn's murder.
They did not yet know that the evidence had never been destroyed.
Lysa Arryn had preserved it for them.
End of Chapter 145
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Author's Note
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