"The Starks were not the only northmen. The Iron Throne has named the Lord of the Dreadfort as Warden of the North."
"Would you lesson me in warfare? I was fighting battles when you were sucking mother's milk."
"And losing battles too." Asha took a drink of wine.
Victarion did not like to be reminded of Fair Isle. "Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old. You have not come to make a claim, I hope"
She teased him with a smile. "And if I have?"
"There are men who remember when you were a little girf, swimming naked in the sea and playing with your dolt."
"I played with axes too"
"You did," he had to grant, "but a woman wants a husband, nor a crown. When I am king I'll give you one."
"My nuncle is so good to me. Shall I find a pretty wife for you, when I am queen?"
"I have no luck with wives. How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see that Uncle Damphair has woken more than he intended. The Drumm means to make a claim, and Tarle the Thrice-Drowned was heard to say that Maron Volmark is the true heir of the black line."
"The king must be a kraken," "The Crow's Eye is a kraken. The elder brother comes before the younger." Asha leaned close. "But I am the child of King Balon's body, so I come before you both. Hear me, nuncle…"
But then a sudden silence fell. The singing died, Little Lenwood Tawney lowered his fiddle, men turned their heads. Even the clatter of plates and knives was hushed.
A dozen newcomers had entered the feast tent. Victarion saw Pinchface Jon Myre, Torwold Browntooth, Left-Hand Lucas Codd. Germund Botley crossed his arms against the gilded breastplate he had taken off a Lannister captain during Balon's first rebellion. Orkwood of Orkmont stood beside him. Behind them were Stonehand, Quellon Humble, and the Red Oarsman with his fiery hair in braids. Rafe the Shepherd too, and Rate of Lordsport, and Qarl the Thrall.
And the Crow's Eye, Euron Greyjoy.
He looks unchanged, Victarion thought. He looks the same as he did the day he laughed at me, and left. Euron had always been the most comely of Lord Quellon's sons, and the years had scarcely seemed to touch his beauty. His hair was still as black as a midnight sea, with never a whitecap to be seen, and his face was still smooth and pale beneath his neat dark beard. A black leather patch covered Euron's left eye, but his right was blue as a summer sky. His smiling eye, thought Victarion.
"Crow's Eye," he said.
"King Crow's Eye, brother." Euron smiled. There was something odd about his lips. They looked very dark in the lamplight, bruised and blue.
"We shall have no king but from the kingsmoot." The Damphair stood. "No godless man-"
"may sit the Seastone Chair, aye." Euron glanced about the tent. "As it happens I have oft sat upon the Seastone Chair of late. It raises no objections." His smiling eye was glittering. "I ask you, friends, who knows more of gods than me? Horse gods and fire gods, gods made of gold with gemstone eyes, gods carved of cedar wood, gods chiseled into mountains, gods of empty air… I know every god there is. I have seen their peoples garland them with flowers, and shed the blood of goats and bulls and children in their names. And I have heard their people's prayers. All over this wide world in half a hundred tongues, they pray the same. Cure my withered leg, make the maiden love me, grant me a healthy son. Save me, succor me, make me wealthy. .. protect me! Protect me from mine enemies, protect me from the darkness, protect me from the crabs inside my belly, from the horselords, from the slavers, from the sellswords at my door. Protect me from the Silence." He laughed. "Godless? Why, Aeron, I am the godliest man ever to raise sail! You serve one god, Damphair, but I have served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray."
The priest was shaking, Victarion could see. He raised a boney finger. "They pray to trees and golden idols and goat-headed abominations. False gods…"
"Just so," said Euron, "and for that sin I kill them all. I spill their blood upon the sea and sow their screaming women with my seed. Their little gods cannot stop me, so plainly they are false gods. I am more devout than even you, Aeron. Perhaps it should be you who kneels to me for blessing."
The Red Oarsman laughed loudly at that, and the others took their lead from him.
"Fools,"said the priest, "fools and thralls and blind men, that is what you are. Do you not see what stands before you?"
"A king," said Quellon Humble.
The Damphair spat, and strode out into the night.
When he was gone, the Crow's Eye turned his smiling eye upon Victarion. "Lord Captain, have you no greeting for a brother long away? Nor you, Asha? How fares your lady mother?"
"Poorly." Asha's tone was clipped and cold. "Some man made her a widow."
Euron shrugged. "I had heard the Storm God swept Balon to his death. Who is this man who slew him? Tell me his name, niece, so I might revenge myself on him."
Asha got to her feet. "You know his name as well as I. Three years you were gone from us, and yet Silence returns within a day of my lord father's death."
"Do you accuse me?" Euron asked mildly.
"Should I?" The sharpness in Asha's voice made Victarion frown. It was dangerous to speak so to the Crow's Eye, even when his smiling eye was shining with amusement.
"Do I command the winds?" the Crow's Eye asked his pets.
"No, Your Grace," said Orkwood of Orkmont.
"No man commands the winds," said Germund Botley.
"Would that you did," the Red Oarsman said. "You would sail wherever you liked, and never be becalmed."
"There you have it, from the mouths of three brave men," Euron said. "The Silence was at sea when Balon died. If you doubt an uncle's word, I give you leave to ask my crew."
"A crew of mutes? Aye, that would serve me well."
"A husband would serve you well." Euron turned to his followers again. "Torwold, I misremember, do you have a wife?"
"Only the one." Torwold Browntooth grinned, and showed how he had won his name.
"I am unwed," announced Left-Hand Lucas Codd.
"And for good reason," Asha said, "All women do despise the Codds as well. Don't look at me so mournful, Lucas. You still have your famous hand." She made a pumping motion with her fist.
Codd cursed, till the Crow's Eye put a hand upon his chest. "Was that courteous, Asha? You have wounded Lucas to the quick."
"Easier than wounding him in the prick. I throw an axe as well as any man, but when the target is so small…"
"This girl forgets herself," snarled Pinchface Jon Myre. "Balon let her believe she was a man."
"Your father made the same mistake with you" said Asha.
"Give her to me, Euron," suggested the Red Oarsman. "I'll spank her till her arse is as red as my hair."
"Come try," said Asha, "and hereafter we can call you the Red Eunuch." A throwing axe was in her hand. She tossed it in the air and caught it deftly "Here is my husband, nuncle. Any man who wants me should take it up with him."
Victarion slammed his fist upon the table. 'Til have no blood shed here. Euron, take your… pets… and go."
"I had looked for a warmer welcome from you, brother. I am your elder… and soon, your rightful king."
Victarion's face darkened. "When the kingsmoot speaks, we shall see who wears the driftwood crown."
"On that we can agree." Euron lifted two fingers to the patch that covered his left eye, and took his leave. The others followed at his heels like mongrel dogs. Silence lingered behind them, till Little Lenwood Tawney took up his fiddle. The wine and ale began to flow again, but several guests had lost their thirst. Eldred Codd slipped out, cradling his bloody hand. Then Will Humble, Hotho Harlaw, a goodly lot of Goodbrothers.
"Nuncle." Asha put a hand upon his shoulder. "Walk with me, if you would."
Outside the tent the wind was rising. Clouds raced across the moon's pale face. They looked a bit like galleys, stroking hard to ram. The stars were few and faint. All along the strand the tongships rested, tall masts rising like a forest from the surf. Victarion could hear their hulls creaking as they settled on the sand. He heard the keening of their lines, the sound of banners flapping. Beyond, in the deeper waters of the bay, larger ships bobbed at anchor, grim shadows wreathed in mist.