Limpick had been walking less than half an hour from Harrenhal when he heard the sound behind him.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Claws on hard-packed dirt, steady and unhurried, following him the whole way. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Not many things in the world made that sound, and only one of them would be tailing him.
He stopped and turned.
Ember stood twenty paces back, four legs planted, massive head tilted, golden eyes fixed on him. Plume perched on its head, wings folded, gold-and-silver eyes locked on him too. One black, one white. One huge, one small. Exactly the same as when they'd left Harrenhal's gates.
Limpick stared at them. They stared back. The rising sun lit Ember's black scales with a dark-red sheen. Plume's white feathers stirred in the breeze like a little flag.
"I told you to stay in Harrenhal," Limpick said.
Ember's tail flicked once and flattened a clump of dead grass beside the road.
"You can't follow me. You're too damn obvious."
Ember lowered its head and rested it on its front claws. Plume launched off, landed on Limpick's shoulder, and pecked his ear. It didn't hurt, just itched. Limpick ducked his neck. Plume pecked again.
"I said you have to stay—"
Ember stood, walked right up to him, and crouched. It pushed its back toward him, wings tucked tight, scales flashing in the sunlight. The invitation couldn't have been clearer—get on.
Limpick looked at its back. Ember was bigger than a horse now. The spine was wide, with a perfect dip between the wing roots and shoulders just big enough for a rider. The scales were smooth, not rough. Sitting there would probably be more comfortable than a saddle.
"No," Limpick said.
Ember rumbled low in its throat, clearly annoyed.
"People see you and it's over. A dragon walking the Kingsroad? You got a death wish?"
Ember didn't move. It stayed crouched, back offered. Plume flew up from Limpick's shoulder, landed on Ember's head, and let out a single bronze-bell call that carried far across the empty fields.
Limpick glanced around. The Kingsroad was deserted. Gods Eye to the east, open wasteland to the west, rolling hills and woods to the south. The nearest village was ten miles away. No one in sight.
"Just this stretch," he said. "When we hit people, you head back."
Ember's tail flicked once in agreement.
Limpick climbed on. Harder than mounting a horse—no saddle, no stirrups, just bare scales. He grabbed the ridge along Ember's neck, swung up, and settled into the dip in front of the wings. The scales were warm. Sitting there felt better than riding—firm but comfortable, like a heated bench.
Ember waited until he was steady, then stood. Limpick rose with it. Ember's back was at least six feet off the ground. He was higher than he'd ever been on a horse. He gripped the scales and looked around. The view was insane—he could see miles of woods and rivers, even villages on the far side of the Gods Eye.
Ember started walking, slow and even. Four legs moving in perfect rhythm, steady as a ship. Claws thudded on the dirt, tail dragging a line of dust behind them. Plume launched off Ember's head, flew ahead, landed on a tree for a minute, then circled back, did a quick lap around Ember's head, and flew off again.
Limpick sat on Ember's back, wind on his face, sun on his shoulders, so comfortable he almost dozed off. Back in Riverrun he'd walked everywhere on two feet until his soles bled. Now he just sat and watched the scenery slide past.
"If you'd done this sooner," he patted Ember's neck, "I wouldn't have walked seven days from Riverrun to Harrenhal."
Ember blew a puff of smoke and ignored him.
They followed the Kingsroad south. The road was stone, built by King Robert, though it was cracked and pitted now. Still better than mud. Ember's claws rang against the stones, the sound carrying across the empty land.
After an hour or so Limpick spotted a village ahead. Small—maybe twenty houses, a dirt path running through it, a few crooked trees at the entrance. People bent over in the fields.
"Stop," he patted Ember's neck. "People."
Ember halted and glanced back at him.
"You two hide. Go around. Stay off the road so no one sees you."
Ember's ears twitched but it didn't move.
"Listen to me," Limpick slid off, landing with a jolt in his knees. "I'll walk through. You two cut through the woods and wait for me up ahead."
Ember looked unhappy, golden eyes narrowed, but it turned anyway. It headed into the trees with Plume. The black shape vanished among the trunks. Plume circled once overhead to make sure the coast was clear, then dropped down.
Limpick brushed the dust off his clothes, straightened his rags, and walked into the village.
It was tiny—just stone huts and a livestock pen. A few workers in the fields glanced up, saw his ragged look, and went back to their labor. Starving paupers were common in the Riverlands. No one cared.
He passed straight through. An old woman at the edge was selling half-rotten apples—three coppers a pile. He touched the pouch at his belt. Marwyn had given him a few coins before he left. Not many, but enough for apples. He thought about it, then kept walking. The hardtack would last. No point wasting money.
Once he was clear of the village he looked toward the treeline. Nothing visible. But he knew Ember was in there. He could feel that heavy, warm presence moving through the shadows, keeping pace.
He waited at the edge of the woods. Ember's head poked out, golden eyes flashing in the shade.
"Come on out," Limpick said. "It's clear."
Ember stepped from the trees and shook itself hard, shedding leaves and twigs. Plume flew up and landed on Limpick's shoulder, pecking at his hair.
"You sure know how to slack off," Limpick said, glancing sideways at Plume. "You've got wings. Getting tired already?"
Plume gave a bright call, then curled into a tight ball on his shoulder and refused to move.
Limpick sighed and climbed back onto Ember.
The next few days followed the same pattern.
They walked by day and hid whenever people appeared. Ember was too big to conceal. Every time a village or travelers showed up in the distance, Limpick slid off, sent Ember and Plume into the woods or behind a hill, and continued on foot like a lone traveler. Once the coast was clear he'd rejoin them.
At first it was easy. The Kingsroad was quiet—only two or three groups a day. But the farther south they went, the busier it got. The Riverlands were the heart of Westeros, where three rivers met and trade never stopped. By the third day the road was full of people—merchants with carts, farmers driving livestock, knights on horseback, whole families of paupers heading to King's Landing. Limpick was jumping off Ember more and more. Sometimes he barely sat for half an hour before he had to get down again.
Ember wasn't happy about it.
It never spoke, but Limpick could tell. Every time he dismounted and told it to hide, Ember's ears drooped, its tail dragged, and it rumbled low in its throat like it was grumbling. Once when Limpick jumped down, Ember butted him with its head—hard enough to nearly knock him over.
"What the hell?" Limpick steadied himself and glared.
Ember turned its head away. Plume perched on top, tilting its head at Limpick with a gold-and-silver blink and a short call that sounded a lot like "serves you right."
Limpick looked at the pair and suddenly felt like he was raising two kids—one sulky teenager and one little smart-ass.
"Fine, fine," he walked over and patted Ember's neck. "I know you don't like it. But there's no choice. You're huge. If anyone sees you, it's finished. You think the people in King's Landing would just wave? They'd cage you up and drag you in front of King Robert. Then what? You'd be a sideshow. Every person in Westeros lining up to stare. You really want that instead of hiding in the trees for a while?"
Ember's ears twitched. It didn't answer, but it stopped butting him.
"When we reach King's Landing," Limpick went on, "you won't have to hide anymore. Find a quiet spot and wait. Once I finish my business I'll come get you. Then we all go to Dragonstone together. That place has seen dragons for hundreds of years. The Targaryens kept them there forever. No one will bat an eye. You'll fit right in—like a fish in water."
Ember turned its head. Golden eyes studied him. Limpick wasn't sure how much it understood, but its tail started flicking again, sweeping dust across the road.
"Let's go," Limpick patted its neck. "Two more days and we'll be at King's Landing. Just hang in there."
On the fifth day they crossed the Trident.
The river was wide and fast. The old stone bridge was covered in moss. Soldiers at the checkpoint collected tolls. Limpick slid off Ember, sent it and Plume into a willow grove downstream, and walked across alone. He paid half a copper. Marwyn's coins were almost gone now—only three coppers and a little hardtack left.
On the far side he waited by the road. Leaves rustled. Ember emerged from the willows, Plume on its back. Both were covered in white and green fluff. Limpick picked the willow seeds off Ember's neck and straightened the feathers under Plume's wings. Plume gave a soft call that sounded like thanks.
"Come on," Limpick climbed back up. "Almost there. Tomorrow or the day after."
Past the Trident the villages grew thicker. Almost every two or three miles another cluster of houses. The road was packed—carts, porters, riders, herds, whole families of paupers streaming toward King's Landing. Limpick had to jump down constantly. Sometimes he barely sat for a few minutes before he was off again.
For the last stretch he stopped riding altogether. He sent Ember and Plume into the woods and walked on foot. They were close to King's Landing now. Walking wouldn't kill him.
Ember wasn't thrilled, but it obeyed. It stayed in the treeline, keeping pace a few dozen yards away. Sometimes a black scale flashed between the trunks. Sometimes its tail brushed through bushes with a soft rustle. Limpick walked the road pretending not to notice.
He kept one hand on the small dragon bone in his shirt. It had grown warm again, almost alive.
Dragonstone was waiting. A whole mountain of dragonglass.
He walked faster.