Brienne sat on a small wooden bench in the belly of the ferry, her gauntleted hands gripping the gunwale.
The flickering fires she had seen from the Isle the previous night had conjured nightmares of a landscape she knew too well: charred beams standing like broken ribs, corpses turning green in the autumn heat, and survivors staring at the sky with hollow eyes. She had seen it from Duskendale to Maidenpool.
But the reality before her defied every expectation.
"Quite the hive," Ser Hyle Hunt noted, squinting as he picked a piece of salt-beef from his teeth. "It seems the Lightbringer doesn't just recite prayers; he knows how to drive a hammer."
The town was a roar of industry. Laborers hauled timber and stone with a purpose Brienne rarely saw in feudal levies. At the center of the ruins, a new Septry was rising. Scaffolding made of massive logs creaked as pulleys groaned; sparks flew where masons polished stone; and the air was thick with the white dust of slaked lime.
A brawny, hard-faced man with his sleeves rolled up was working a two-man saw through a heavy oak plank. Sawdust fell from his brow like pale snow. Seeing the ferry arrive, he set the tool aside, brushed the grit from his chest, and strode forward with a booming laugh.
"Brother Meribald! It has been an age!"
Meribald embraced him warmly. "Elder, I feared you had finally been called to the Father's side."
"I have work yet to finish," the Elder replied, grinning. "The gods aren't done with me."
After the greetings, Meribald introduced his companions. "Ser Hyle Hunt of the Reach; the Lady Brienne of Tarth; and her squire, Podrick Payne. Lady Brienne seeks the Hound. Brother Miles thought you might have word."
The Elder led them to a pile of curing timber away from the noise. He donned a rough brown robe over his work-tunic, shivering slightly. "The work keeps the blood hot, but the wind bites once you stop. You seek Sandor Clegane, My Lady? To my knowledge, the man has committed no crimes since leaving the capital. Why hunt a ghost?"
"A girl," Brienne said, her voice steady despite her weariness. "A noble virgin of thirteen years. Lovely face, auburn hair."
"Sansa Stark," the Elder whispered the name. "And you think she is with the Hound?"
"A Dornishman told me she was bound for Riverrun," she explained. "A man named Timon—a sellsword and a liar, but I believe he spoke true in this. He said the Hound took her from the road."
The Elder sat heavily on a log, his expression turning somber. "Your Dornishman spoke the truth, but I fear you have chased the wrong wolf. Eddard Stark had two daughters. It was the younger one Clegane took. The wild one."
"Arya Stark?" Brienne's breath hitched. "She is alive?"
"She was," the Elder said. "Now? I cannot say. A girl of ten, alone in the Trident, is a recipe for tragedy. There are rumors she took a ship for the Free Cities, and those who saw her board it are likely cold in the ground."
The words were a dagger to Brienne's gut. "You are not certain?"
"I am certain they were together at the Inn at the Crossroads. I am certain they were bound for Saltpans. On the road, they met the Mountain's men. Sandor slew three but took a wound that nearly ended him. The girl left him there. Since then... nothing. I heard some of the Lightning Lord's outlaws went across the sea to find her, but no word has returned."
"The Brotherhood?" Ser Hyle cut in. "Lord Tarly has been trying to hang them for moons. They are brigands."
"Brigands the smallfolk love," the Elder countered.
"How do you know all this of the Hound?" Brienne pressed.
"I heard it from the man's own mouth," the Elder smiled. "Friar Ray found him dying in the mud and mended him. They serve the Lightbringer now. Sandor helped clear this town of the vermin that sacked it."
"The Hound... mending wood?" Ser Hyle scoffed.
"No. He leads fifty horse. He broke a warband of Mountain Clans that came down from the Vale, armed with Lannister steel."
"Tyrion... my Lord Tyrion armed them," Podrick stammered.
"Can I see him?" Brienne asked.
"Not today. He rode north at dawn to hunt the last of the Mummers. He sent word that the rats are trapped, but for more than that, you must ask the Commander's agent here, Ser Greme."
Brienne bowed. "My thanks, Elder."
As the party moved toward the army camp across the town, Meribald and the Elder remained behind.
"You've seen him, then? The Lightbringer?" Meribald asked softly.
The Elder nodded. "He spent his first night in Saltpans with us. His 'Light' is... impressive. It is not like the Faith."
"It is the power of Anshe," Meribald said, opening his palm. A faint, golden pulse flickered in his hand like a heartbeat. "He taught us that true piety requires no bells or gilded robes. I have walked the Trident for a year with this gift, saving those the Lords left to rot. He is the only hope for this world, Perry."
The Elder watched the light with a mixture of envy and dread. "He told me once that to build his Order, many good men would be 'kindling' for the sun's fire. I have seen enough death, Meribald. My heart is soft, and his way leads to war."
"It leads to Justice," Meribald corrected. He reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a small, intricately forged piece of Sun-Steel. It bore his name and the Seven-Pointed Sun. "This is a Solar Mark. I have found only three souls in a year worthy of it. If you find another, you can go to St. Maur's and receive the Seed of Light. You are forty, Perry. Do not waste the Father's gifts on an island of silence. The world is screaming for men like you."
The Elder took the steel, his silence heavy with indecision.
Brienne found Ser Greme near a brick kiln. He was a lean, focused man, currently instructing workers on the tempering of clay.
"I am Brienne of Tarth," she stated, her stature causing Greme to pause in surprise. "I seek Sandor Clegane. I am under oath to Lady Catelyn Stark to find her daughters."
Greme's eyes flickered at the mention of Catelyn. As a leader of Aldric's staff, he knew the Lady was currently in hiding at the Monastery. But the alliance with the Brotherhood was a secret for another day.
"The Hound is not here," Greme said, pointing up the Trident. "He and his riders are stationed at the Inn at the Crossroads. You'll find him there, if the Mummers haven't finished him first."
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