A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / A Good Day to Die browse

Index | HomePage | GameLogs | HoldfastGameLogs | A Good Day to Die

The morning had dawned at last, and he'd spent hours praying that it never would.

Not that Evan wasn't glad to finally resolve this festering boil of a situation in Holdfast. Rather, he was sort of hoping he'd die during the night. Had it not been for the blankets, he guessed, he probably would have.

The nearby chamberpot, provided by the guard sometime around midnight when the man finally took pity on his writhing prisoner, attested to the agony in which he'd spent a sleepless night, as did the foulness surrounding it. His lips were cracked from the dehydration and exposure, and his eyelids so swollen they would barely open, which was something of a blessing considering his sensitivity to light. Feebly, he licked a few spots of dew from the back of his hand, and then dry-retched a few times, his body spasming as though someone had taken a saw to his insides.

In the early morning light, a slight figure, dressed in breeches but with the long dark hair of a woman, made her way across the tournament field to where Evan Tamm had been left to sleep on furs and blankets but out on the ground.

It was Limosa, and she was carrying a bowl of something that steamed.

The scent of food hit him before he was aware anyone was there, and Evan lifted his head blearily, struggling to focus on her. He took a deep breath, and suddenly convulsed and vomited again into the grass as the smell bit deep into his tortured organs. Only a pale thin film came out; there was nothing left to give, and Evan turned away with a groan.

Limosa, hearing her father's shout, half-turned, but then closer sound of Evan's retching drew her attention. She set the oatmeal down so hastily that some of it slopped into the grasp, and then moved to crouch beside Evan, gazing at him worriedly. Then she turned to the guard and made a cupping gesture with both hands. The guard gaped - but then, with some reluctance, handed over the leather water bottle he had beside him for his own use. Limosa splashed some of this over Evan's face and then held it insistently against his lips.

Corryn hurried his pace, "Limosa, get away from him. He's a danger…"

His voice died in his throat as he saw Evan's condition. That kind of sickness could not be faked. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat and bile, covering his nose with his forearm. Immediately, he thought of the Boltons and their propensity for falling ill. Icy fear twisted in his belly. The last Bolton that had fallen ill in Holdfast cost him his true love.

Not again.

He touched her arm, his expression stern. "Limosa, please stand back from him. I will not let you get sick." His voice had an authority to it she had not heard; one fueled by fear and concern. Knowing her concern for the man, he added, "Don't worry, my dear. We'll get him the proper help."

And then with a venomous hiss, Corryn turned on the guard. "At what point were you thinking of telling someone the prisoner was sick? Or were you intending to let him die first and then open your bloody mouth?"

"And why not?" Evan began hoarsely, with a phlegmy cough that spluttered water from his cracked lips. He sat up slowly, however, and his eyes burned with an uncommon alertness, despite their rheumy state. "After all," he continued, his voice growing in strength as he took the bottle and drained another slug of water, "leave an ill man out here in the field overnight to die and he might just save you the trouble."

"Oh, and while your concern is touching," he added with a curled lip, "I'll be just fine. Just seems to be - something I ate."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ser Evan. I'm more concerned for the people of Holdfast," Corryn said frankly. "The last illness a Bolton brought here killed several of my closest friends. And I certainly won't take chances with my friends and daughter again."

"On the contrary, Ser Corryn, it is you who flatter me with the title," Evan said dryly. "But yes, I'd forgotten that the Boltons have nothing better to do than think about how they might inconvenience Holdfast." Evan rolled his eyes. "Good thing you were here to stop my dastardly plan of dying messily around the Hardys."

"Oh, don't feel you have to stop on my account," Corryn said plainly. "Please carry on."

Limosa looked at Corryn for guidance, although, obedient to his commands (for once), she made no further attempt to approach the prisoner.

Corryn placed a protective arm around her waist and kept her close to him. He placed a light kiss upon her brow, pleased that she'd listened to him. "Thank you, my dear," he whispered.

"Nothing we gave him, Ser," said one of the guards. "His own man brought his food last night."

Corryn cocked his head toward the voice, his eyes narrowing. "You're still here? A bad belly can kill a man. At the moment, I don't care how he got sick. I only care that he is sick. So, did you intend to personally tell Maesters Rhys or Sewell they have a patient or did you intend to pull a raven from your arse to relay that missive?" He gestured toward the castle in exasperation.

"Don't bother," Evan admonished the guard, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Your Maester is a lying weasel, and anywhere but Holdfast, he'd be wearing a different kind of chain. The Others take your Maester - I won't have him touch me." He took another pull from the water, and gave Limosa a little salute with the skin. "Very kind of you, Lady. Just what I needed."

Limosa nodded, frowning a little.

"Well," said the guard. "You're a little late for that. Garvent has just gone running for the Maester."

And, indeed, his fellow guard could be seen hastening across the tourney field to the castle.

"And the fates continue to conspire against you, Ser Evan," Corryn said with a mournful sigh. "There must be another Hardy plot afoot."

He turned to the guard. "Do us a favor and run back to my camp. Ask Squire Volf for some of the powered ginger. We should still have some in our larder. He'll know where to find it. Then bring it and another skin of water back here. Quick now, before this porridge turns to stone."

Corryn smiled at Limosa and explained, "We use ginger when we're sailing. Helps keep the food down. It's the least we can do."

His eyes met Evan's, "Do you have a Second, Ser Evan? I doubt even you could fight in your condition today."

Evan raised an eyebrow in mild annoyance. "Regardless of what you've been told, I am no knight, though if it suits you to keep pretending I am, feel free." He drained the waterskin with one long, last pull, and tossed it aside. "And I have no second, and need no second. Let's get this trial over and done with. I'm ready." He looked like death warmed up, but there was no doubt in his voice - he was quite serious.

Limosa moved restlessly. The guard (not without a few backward glances) had set off across the field in quest of the ginger and Corryn and Limosa were now alone with Evan Tam.

Corryn moved his hand to rest supportively against her back. In many ways, she supported him as well. He sighed faintly, "Well, then, at least you'll die with some dignity. You deserve that at least. More than I can say for your brother."

He took note of their solitude and then the smarmy exterior faded away to a serious respect. "I have a question for you, Ser Evan... and I know that is your true title, deny it or not.

"You don't have to answer, but I am curious. Was she worth all this? And I don't mean Edlyn, even though we both know you killed that sot for her. I mean the one you turned your back on your family for. The reason your father wants you dead. Was she worth it?"

There was no mockery in his voice, no condescension; only genuine interest.

"Not in the least," Evan said quickly, almost before he'd realised what the question was. As the implications slowly came to him, he raised an eyebrow, and his lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. "No, not at all - she wasn't worth a tinker's cuss." He gave a little sigh, and looked longingly at the discarded waterskin, half-hoping it would magically fill with wine, or something stronger. "Still," he murmured, "could've been worse. For instance, I could have come here as myself and been spat on for my name, rather than my actions."

He squinted up at Corryn, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. "You've obviously been talking around where you shouldn't, Ser Corryn. In which case, I think we can both drop the pretense. After all, we both know that isn't my true title - Evan Tamm has never taken vows, knightly or otherwise. And we both know I didn't kill Grunther for Edlyn or anyone else here at Holdfast. If I had, I wouldn't be here - killing a man in Bolton clothes isn't a crime here, not one worth treating a man like a dog for."

Corryn gave Evan a sympathetic nod. After checking for a clean spot on the ground, he knelt down to the other man's level. He gestured for Limosa to do the same, holding her hand. "Actually," he admitted to Evan, "Your true title or were never discussed. Eyrk was far too busy boasting about everything he'd stolen from you. Your former life, your birthright... your woman." The last word came out only with effort, his eyes flickering with irritation.

He bowed his head, "So yes, I've been talking with those I should not.

 Those I wish I did not have to.  Worry not that I shall repeat what I

learned or this conversation to my friends. I swore I would keep your secrets in the Godswood, and I shall swear it again to you. So will my daughter." He glanced over at Limosa to confirm this before returning his gaze to Evan.

"Frankly, I wish I could be dealing with you, Evan," he said plainly. "Believe what you will, I respect you. I wish this could have ended differently. It still can, if you allow me to help you."

Evan's smile seemed one of genuine amusement. "You assume I think your word is worth a damn, Manderly," he said, without rancour. "But I don't really have any secrets to give away, nor do I think you can really ask me anything I wouldn't be prepared to answer, not at this point." He squinted into the sun, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "Doing something you ask, on the other hand, is another matter. Believe me when I say I'm fully prepared to go through with this trial, and that I don't see any better options for myself. So if you have suggestions, say on. I may consider them."

Limosa was still, watching the two of them intently.

Corryn nodded, "I would certainly not espouse my trustworthy nature, so I can understand your hesitation to believe what I say. But nonetheless, it is the truth."

He checked from side to side ascertain if they were being observed. Satisfied that they were not, Corryn began to talk in a low voice. "I am certain you wish to go through with this trial. But you should be aware that no matter the outcome, you will die today, Evan. Be that either by Godfrey's lance or by your father's hand. Indeed, your father has instructed me to make certain you perish. If I do not, he intends to take my daughter from me by force to be his~E bride." His lip curl with disgust and he could not meet Limosa's gaze.

"Considering the violence he has already inflicted upon Lady Syndra, I will not allow that to happen."

Corryn's hazel eyes held Evan's, "However, if I were to offer not only your freedom, but what you've had stolen from you and more, would you be willing to listen? Even if it means that blood will be spilled?"

"I'm listening right now," Evan said with a shrug, fighting the urge to scratch and claw at the grime and sick-sweat he felt caked all over him. "Mostly because, so far, you haven't asked me to do or not do anything. You should bear in mind, though, that I am as aware as you are that the easiest and best thing for you to do is simply ensure I die, one way or another. That way you get to keep your daughter - " he nodded nonchalantly in Limosa's direction - "and the Hardys stay happy." He smiled thinly. "So by all means, go on."

"Very well," Corryn said with a perfunctory nod. "My plan is a dangerous one and you must pay one of the heaviest prices, should it go wrong. Firstly, before the trial begins, you must renounce your intentions to fight in a Trial by Combat. Admit to your guilt and reveal your true identity. As a high-born, you cannot be executed for murdering a low-born. You will be sent to the Wall. I will make certain of it."

He held up his hand to prevent interruption. "I will agree to escort you to Leaning Stone. It is along the route to the Wall. All Black Robes stop there. And as I have a few men about to join the Night Watch, it is only logical that I take you there to be picked up. And Godfrey owes me many a favor, if it comes to that.

"Your brother and I have struck a deal that will require him to join us; to look over his new bride and holdings, in exchange for Leaning Stone. Along the way, however, we will incapacitate him. You will take his name and his title. After all, they are yours to begin with. And then he will go to the Wall in your place. Not willingly, of course, but we will make him… pliable. I will then escort you to White Harbor where you will marry one of my cousins, as I have begun to arrange for Eyrk. Or you can hop onto one of my ships and head for the Free Cities, your choice. Either way, you will be alive and with monies to live a normal life.

"This will, however, rely on one thing."

Corryn sat back slightly, straightening his shoulders. "That Lord Herys die during the tournament today."

Evan smiled faintly, and rocked back and forth a little, drumming his fingers lightly against each other. "Ahhhh," he drawled, but said nothing more for a while, and inhaled slowly through his teeth before replying. "That's quite a plan, Ser Corryn. Quite a plan."

"You are right, of course," he added, still smiling, "when you say that I take on quite a risk here. I risk, of course, being summarily executed once I forgo the trial by combat. Yes, they do say a noble cannot be executed for killing a commoner, but who would care if that were broken just this once?" Evan chuckled lightly. "And that assumes, of course, there's any proof that I am in fact a noble and not some illegitimate byblow. Which there isn't. In fact, there are people here who would swear blind that it wasn't true. And if there was even the slightest evidence that I was who I am, you and the Hardys wouldn't even be talking about this marriage to Lady Syndra, and would have turfed out the Boltons by now, or had them murdered in their sleep or something." He shrugged. "In any case, I can make such a claim, but I doubt it's going to buy my skin with everyone shouting that I'm making up some desperate lie."

"Then, of course, I have to trust that once I've delivered myself into your power, you'll go through with the rest of it. You know, the swapping, sweeping everyone under the rug. Marry me off to your cousin, you say?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "Interesting, Ser Corryn, that you'll scratch and claw to the bitter end to save the poor Hardy girl, and this young lady here, from marriage to a wicked, wicked Bolton, but you'll happily sell your cousin off. You must hate your cousins a lot." His smile this time showed the faintest white glimmer of teeth. "But that's none of my business, really. I might, however, care if you were to neatly take care of the Bolton situation by drowning both of the Bolton boys in the Long Lake, say. That would save your cousin the hardship, I'm sure. And I can't see anyone in Holdfast shedding any tears. In fact, for all I know, once I'm in your power, the Hardys will come by and make a very persuasive case to you that I should not wake up one morning. I'm sure they'd love that."

"And really, that's a question still unanswered," Evan continued, coughing slightly to clear his throat. "After all, you and everyone here clearly despise anyone under the banner of the Flayed Man. Yet you want me to believe you'll go through all this trouble, marry off one of your cousins with a generous dowry to boot, all for a scion of Bolton. When it would be so much easier to ship them to the Wall, or make sure they meet some very unfortunate accidents." Evan frowned slightly. "You and I are men of the world, Ser Corryn. Ask yourself. If Eryk Bolton were making you this offer, would you believe him? Would you believe him knowing it'd be more efficient for him to slit your throat in your sleep?"

Evan continued. "And, as you say, it relies on one thing. One big thing. My father has to die." He gave a sage nod at that, as if absorbing the full meaning. "And how, or who, exactly did you plan on accomplishing this?"

A sly grin curled Corryn's lips as Evan spoke. In the end, he reached over and patted Evan's shoulder; a deep, cheerful laugh escaping him. The sound felt welcome in the grim surroundings they now shared. "Gods, I knew there was a reason I liked you from the start."

He returned the nod, "You're quite astute, Evan. Your brother's greed blinded him to that little nuance of my offer. Yes, I love my cousin deeply. I wouldn't marry her to a scoundrel like Eryk unless there was a reason. It is why I intended on a long engagement and to offer some of my lands as part of a dowry; in compensation for the 'gift' of Leaning Stone to me, of course. Not to mention the glory of sealing the breach between our two families.

"But you see, my cousin's father is very proper and puts the Hardys to shame when it comes to matters of honor. Considering Eryk's nature, he would shame Wynafred at some point early in their engagement, much as he shamed you with your woman. My Lord Cousin would when dispose of him quickly and quietly, as honor would dictate. Roose would accept our generous offer of apology. I would have no blood on my hands and have most of my lands back. But more importantly, I would also have my daughter's safety and her birthright assured."

He smiled genuinely, "However that would not be the case with you, Evan. There is no need. Twice you have shown you hold the honor of a woman in the highest regard. You left your family and birthright for love of a woman. And then you killed a predator when he threatened Edlyn, despite the risk to your life. Yesterday, when you could have explained your actions, you chose the more dangerous route rather than shame Edlyn.

"That, ser, is a sign of true honor. Bolton or no, I doubt I could find a better match for my dear Winnie. She deserves a man that would die to protect her. And in you, I can see that. Believe what you will, Evan, but you won my respect last night. You did what I was afraid to do very long ago."

Corryn glanced across the tourney grounds before continuing. "As to convincing them to let you go to the Wall, of that I can assure you. I will act as your advocate. I know the truth behind your actions. I will not mention them in court, as I swore to you yesterday. However, I will put their hearts at ease. They already suspect that you are the true son and that will weigh in your favor as well. It is why Eryk has agreed to refuse the marriage once Herys is in the ground. And the Hardys owe me a great many favors; Godfrey in particular. I will use their honor against them, if I must, but you will be given into my custody by the end of this."

He touched Limosa's shoulder, his face darkening with concern as he continued. "As for Herys, I will make sure he fights me in the tournament today. Accidents happen frequently during a tourney. And I am very skilled at arranging accidents. Limosa will never know Herys' touch. I've sworn that to the Seven."

Corryn's smile returned as he concluded, although now much waned. "We are men of the world, Ser Evan. That is true. But men such as you and I have honor. Different from that blind fidelity to the word of law the Hardys exhibit, true. But honor none the less. We do not kill unless we must. And this agreement will serve us both far better than the options we both now see before us."

The Riverwolf gave a sigh of true weariness. "I am very tired, Evan. In the past week I have done many questionable things to protect those I love. All I want to do is go home and raise my daughter and son in peace. I believe you want to live a good life as well. We can give that to one another, you and me. All we must do is the impossible.

"Trust one another."

He looked Evan directly in the eyes and extended his hand. "What say you, Ser Evan?"

Evan looked at the outstretched hand a long moment, still rocking slightly, but in the end, he dropped his head and laughed softly. "You know, Ser Corryn, you really are a terrible judge of character."

He shook his head and continued, chuckling softly to himself. "Honestly, I can't decide if you really are so bad a judge of character, or if you're simply pretending to be while you gather information to doublecross people. I do appreciate your efforts here, though, so I am inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. Let me clear up a few things for you, just so we can speak on the same page."

Evan stretched his neck, and let out a grunt of relief as the vertebrae cracked; these past two nights were starting to take their toll. "Firstly, it's very hard to believe that in our two very short conversations, you've decided I'm somehow honourable enough to wed your cousin, and that I'd die to protect some woman I don't know. I mean, look at me." He glanced down meaningfully - he knew exactly what sort of sight he must present. "And consider the circumstances - how many other imprisoned criminals would you offer your cousin's hand to? But to be fair, we both know you're just saying that to butter me up, as it were. If I were to agree, and you decided in the next few weeks that I really was some Bolton dog worthy of nothing better than a quick knife in the night, I can be disposed of quietly and nobody gets hurt. After all, that's pretty much what you already had planned for the Bastard." He spread his hands. "So yes, we both know the score on that account. Not even you could be so naive as to suddenly see the bright, shining soul in me beneath all these layers." Evan's words dripped with good-humoured sarcasm.

"Secondly, as I already said, I didn't kill Grunther for Edlyn's sake, or anyone else here. If I had, I could have just said so to Godwyn or someone else, and I'd be an honoured guest instead of chained in the field. Killing a Bolton isn't a crime here. All I'd have to do is revile the Flayed Man a few times and the Hardys would treat me like a heretic who'd finally seen the light." Evan rolled his eyes. "But that isn't what happened, so there was no reason to mention it, at trial or otherwise. Also, I think it says something about the differences between us when you believe that me abandoning my family and name over a woman is a mark of honour." Evan looked directly into Corryn's eyes then, and the look in those eyes was hard. "Because of all the things I regret doing, that's the one I regret the most. It's the single most dishonourable thing I've done, and if that's the only reason my father wants me dead, it's a good one. And if I didn't have a vested interest in the outcome, I'd help him do it."

"And what happens if I agree, and then you die fighting my father? Hmm? Then I'm dead, whether by Hardy hands or his." Evan quirked an eyebrow. "You know, Ser Corryn, hard as this may be for you to believe, I don't want my father dead. Whatever he is - and believe me, I know exactly what that is - he is still my father. And blood is blood. Were I in a position to stop you killing him - and I'm not - rest assured that I'd do it. That'd be the right thing to do."

Evan took a deep breath and looked away, blinking a few times. "But that's mostly by the by. The real question is whether or not I should take my life out of my own hands and put it in yours. You must admit, that's quite a leap for me to make. I'd have to believe that you'd preserve my life both from the Hardys and my father. I'd have to believe that all these people would take it at my word and yours that I am who I say I am, even without a shred of evidence. And I'd have to believe in Hardy honour, both to make such a deal, and to keep to it." He shook his head. "You, I might believe. I'm inclined to believe your motives are what you say they are, and even if not, a rogue usually has reasonable enough motives that he can be trusted as long as everyone knows what will serve him best. But Hardy honour? May as well ask me to believe in snarks and grumkins." Evan's lips twisted in a bitter imitation of a smile. "I didn't know the Hardys before I came here. Everything I've seen tells me that their honour is a very thin tissue of lies. At best, they're self-absorbed scoundrels, if not outright treacherous and evil. Frankly, I'm not inclined to believe in anything that involves a Hardy keeping their word. Not if I can't rely on myself as a last resort."

Evan sighed. "But you've made an effort to deal with me, and I do appreciate that. So I'll tell you what I want. You're right - I don't want to kill unless I have to. I don't really want to kill any Hardy today, but I will if I have to. And if I die, so be it - at least I had a chance. My sword arm, even like this, is far more reliable than a Hardy's word. What I really want is to ride away from this miserable place and never return. You needn't worry that I'd use my freedom to make trouble - if I never see anyone from Holdfast again, it'll be too soon. In return, for starters, there's the guarantee that I won't have a frightful stroke of luck and run Ser Godfrey through." Evan smiled wryly. "But I realise that's a small bargaining chip. So I'll tell you what. In return for my freedom, and the knowledge that nobody is hunting me down like a fugitive, I will ensure that neither of these two marriages goes through. Without anyone in Holdfast having to run the risk of dying."

Corryn listened carefully and quietly, nodding with Evan's words. From time to time, his smile lightened, perhaps amusement, perhaps agreement. With him, it was always difficult to tell. However, his rancor at the insult to the Hardys was certainly unmistakable; green fire burning in those lupine eyes of his. And yet, he still held his tongue. What could be said, after all? And at the very least, Evan wasn't blowing roses out his arse like some people he'd dealt with of late.

If anything, the harsh honesty was decidedly refreshing.

In the end, he gave a nod of approval. "I will admit, I want to see my friend get to know his daughter after all these years. And, as skilled as he is, the outcome of any duel is undecided. Although considering your string of bad luck, perhaps I needn't worry so much, eh?" He gave a teasing chuckle.

"And you are right, even though I hate to admit it. Blood is blood. I couldn't stand by and let another man kill my father, no matter what hell he has concocted for me. And my father is very inventive when it comes to torment. If you asked me what is in my heart, I don't wish to kill Herys unless I have to. It will solve nothing and certainly not ease the pain he's brought upon me."

He rubbed the bruise on the back of his head, as the sun began to bother it. "As to what you want… well, I can honestly say that if you were under my wing, then your flight to freedom could be assured. I'm a trader knight. I have more hidden paths and hideaways than a paranoid Wildling. Before you know it, you'll be as tanned as a Dothraki and drinking spiced wine in the Summer Isles."

The smile faded just as promptly. "However, getting you into my protection is the problem, Evan. Even if we utilized my plan and could pull it off, your father would seek vengeance against me and mine. As you so poignantly put it, for all my honeyed words, I won't bring further strife upon my family for a man I've just met. And Bolton, at that." The sarcasm in his voice was palatable.

"But I swear this," he said honestly, "If you can help me end these marriage contracts and keep my family safe, without bloodshed, then by the gods I will carry you on my back to Dorne if that's where you wish to go."

Evan shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, if that's your only misgiving, that's the easy part. All I have to do is die." He nodded at the bucket and foulness around it. "You and that guard, at the very least, have seen me sick as a dog. Nobody's paying any attention this way, and it's fairly obvious that many people would be very happy if I expired during the night, of natural causes or - otherwise. So, as they say, give the people what they want."

"If you don't think anyone will believe that I just gurgled my last while you were watching, you can just say I made a grab for the young lady there or something." He nodded in Limosa's direction again. "Just say it was her or me - nobody would fault you or gainsay you. And, of course, since I'm sick, and everyone knows the Boltons deliberately get sick to bring disease to Holdfast - " Evan ground his teeth, trying to keep the bile back - "nobody would fault you if you had my body burned before it caused any trouble. And, coincidentally, before anyone looked at it."

"Hide me in the town for a few hours, give me a meal, and by all the gods, a bath, and then a horse, and I'm on my way. Not only will I never see Holdfast again, which will make everyone happy, but you can go to my father and say you kept your part of the bargain, thus safeguarding the girl here. And as soon as I've done what I want, the other marriage goes away too." Again, Evan shrugged, as if the simplicity of all of it should be obvious. "If you don't trust me to keep up my end, feel free to send someone with me. But you should probably decide quickly." He glanced towards the keep. "You sent for the Maester, and though your Maester is a lying weasel, he's not very good at it. And the fewer questions you have to charm your way past, the better."

Corryn wrung his hands, considering Evan's words. They held a touch of possibility within them, this was true. He doubted very highly that many would balk at his expedient voyage under the cold earth. But the problem truly was would they question it?

The answer, he feared, was a resounding, "Yes."

He cocked his head, regarding Evan seriously. "Have you ever burned a body, Evan? Because I have; many of them, in fact. They don't just go up in smoke. They leave teeth and bones behind. And as much as I'd like to have your skull to appease the masses, I suspect you'd require it somewhere down the road.

"Rhys may be a thorn in both our sides, but he's a dutiful and skilled snoop. And he'll see through the ruse almost immediately. I might be able to convince him to lie about his 'findings,' but even he would require adequate proof of your immolation to back his claims. Particularly where your father is concerned, eh?"

Corryn scratched the stubble on his chin, his brow knitting thoughtfully. He even glanced over at Limosa on the off chance she wished to add to the conversation. He let out a nasty snort as a dark thought crossed his mind. "Pity your brother isn't close at head. He's about your height, isn't he?"

Evan spread his hands. "I'm just making suggestions, Ser Corryn. You're a resourceful fellow. I have no doubt that if you need a body to burn, you can procure one. That doesn't mean you have to start from scratch, of course." He sat back and blinked, almost ingenuously. "I've told you what I wanted, and made a few suggestions. Feel free to act on them or not."

A shadow passed over Corryn's features and then he gave an obligatory nod. "So you have," he said, standing up. "Well, I believe we're done for now. I'll take your words under advisement. And yes, I'm sure I can procure a corpse matching your description." He smiled oddly and touched Limosa's arm, nodding for her to follow him back to the camp.

"You'll know when the time comes, even if it is not as you would expect," he said without looking at Evan. "Be ready for it, Evan. There will not be a second chance. I'll make sure you get that porridge. Even corpses need their strength."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Evan demurred. "I think it'd be foolish to - take more chances with Holdfast food." He lay back on the grass. "Just so you know, Ser Corryn, from here on in, I consider myself to be fighting for my life. A man may act somewhat irrationally under such circumstances; I say this mostly because I haven't forgotten that the easiest thing for you to do is just have me killed, ideally before I get a shot at Ser Godfrey. With that in mind, that fight is what I'm preparing for now - as I said, it doesn't make sense to let you decide my fate when there's still a chance I can decide it for myself."

Rhys and Evan's guard walked over from across the field. Rhys looked at them all curiously as they approached, then his eyes settled on Tamm, taking in his appearance. He frowned.

"Ser Corryn," Rhys said, flicking his eyes from Tamm up to Corryn. "Good morning to you. I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

Unsure of how Limosa would take to his presence there, Rhys decided not to test it by saying good morning to her as well, but his eyes did glance in her direction.

"Neither did I to be honest, Maester Rhys," Corryn said, regaining his composure as if he'd just been upset. "However, my daughter has a kind heart, even for those like Evan Tamm. She brought him breakfast. Not that it's done him much good, as you'll see."

He gestured toward the prisoner, "I believe someone tried to poison him last night. Without much success, I fear." He smiled good-humoredly, but his tone did not lie too far from his true feelings on the matter.

Rhys's eyebrow raised. "Poison?" he repeated, incredulous.

Corryn managed a smile at Rhys, almost apologetic in form. "I doubt you want to go near him, maester Rhys. He has particularly strong feelings when it comes to you. Although I'm not entirely sure why. Guilt by association, I suppose."

"I'm here in the function of a healer. If he can't handle that, that's his problem." Rhys turned to Tamm. "What'll it be, Tamm? Will you let me examine and help you, or do I go get some breakfast?"

Evan smiled wanly and folded his hands across his belly. "I'll be just fine, good Maester," he demurred. "Run along and get your breakfast."

As the two men spoke, Corryn crossed over to the guard and leaned into him; shoulder to shoulder. He spoke in a hushed tone, and led the man's gaze back to Evan with his eyes. "No matter what happens, you keep an eye on this one," he whispered. "There is skullduggery about and we want this man only dying when it is good and proper, aye?"

The guard nodded, sheepishly. Clearly, he was not the sharpest awl in the carpenter's kit ...

Rhys stood and gazed at Tamm for a moment, noting his color, his cracked lips and swollen eyelids, the state of his clothes, the smell of the area, and anything else clinically of interest.

He looked over at the Holdfast guard. "Who gave him food last night? And where is the plate it was served on?"

The guard appeared completely nonplussed. "Weren't me, maester," he averred, before realising that a more complete answer was required. "His own man brought it - the young fellow. 'Twere in that bowl there." He pointed to a wooden bowl, upside down, amid the foulness that surrounded the bucket.

Rhys walked up to the guard and got about an inch from his face. "He's obviously been sick for some time," he said angrily, "Why didn't you send for me earlier? You are not the maester here at Holdfast and you do not make decisions regarding whether or not to withhold treatment from someone ill, be they an obnoxious, deluded prisoner or the Lord of Holdfast himself!"

The guard quivered, his face working with strong emotions he dared not express.

Corryn coughed lightly, "Maester Rhys, the good man has already been admonished for the misjudgment. I'm certainly not defending his or his companion's actions, but I believe he is now abundantly aware of the transgression. I doubt it will happen again." He gave the guard a wan smile of support.

Rhys's voice lowered and quieted, but became no less angry. "Relocate Tamm to a clean stretch of grass and have him given clean clothes. Provide fresh water for him and if he requests food, give him bread soaked in weak broth. I'm going to come back after breakfast and those things had better d@mn well been done or you will be taking over Tommo's duties as the nightsoil man, do I make myself clear?"

Corryn stepped back and put his left arm around Limosa's waist. "Maester Rhys, why don't you join us for breakfast and leave that one to his stubbornness?"

Rhys retrieved the wodden bowl the guard had indicated and nodded at Corryn. "Thank you, I will," he said brusquely, still fuming.

Limosa allowed her father to lead her away.

Left behind, the guard reached for the key to unlock Evan Tamm's chains and move him to a clean piece of grass. But almost at once, an expression of horror came over his face.