The King of Winters

Chapter-113

Jorah

The ship was named Adventure.

She boasted sixty oars, a single sail, and a long lean hull that promised speed, not unlike the She-Wolf named for Lyanna Stark which he had once commanded in the Royal fleet. But that was before Leyton Hightower had sent them to the depths of the Whispering Sounds. Small the ship was, but she might serve, Jorah thought when he saw her. She was not a fit vessel to bear a princess, but she would do well for a merchant man and his young wife to find passage across.

Jorah had thought about it long and hard. This seemed to be his finest chance. The port of Oldtown was open to all trade and busy as ever even with the recent battles fought here. Ser Garth had left with the best part of the Hightower fleet whilst the harbour was teeming with ships from both Westeros and Essos. Aboard one of the ships he could make his way out of Oldtown as easily as that. But he wouldn't, not without his princess.

Jorah looked around the ship one last time and climbed up the wooden plank to the deck.

"I want to see your captain," he said to the men mopping and scrubbing the wooden floor. All stopped their rubbing and scrubbing and watched him queerly. Jorah tossed a copper at them and they dropped the mops and rags they were holding to scramble at the copper coin. Finally one managed to get a hold of the coin and scurried away with an ugly smile.

Jorah waited for the ship's master to appear, amidst the cacophony of a hundred voices and the whispering of the sea and the wind.

The deck was almost clean when the master finally made his appearance, with two vile-looking crewmen at his side. His messenger greeted him with a smile but his captain did not. Though he did not like the look of the man, his ruse required for someone like him else another man was sure to go to Lord Hightower at the first instance of doubt.

He had done his best to stay in the shadows of Oldtown so far, and the city was crawling with the city watch and the Hightower soldiers. He never stayed long in one part of a city, not wore one name. Jorah had played a freerider for a few days, and when the mummery had chafed at him, he changed it to a wineseller at the harbour. In Ragpicker's Wynd, he became a blacksmith, and in the Thieves' Market he was a servant. Here he thought to be a merchant on his way to Essos or King's Landing for some business.

And Jorah had let his clothes suit and beard grow to look his part as well. He did cut a poor figure as a knight but a better one yet as a lowly merchant -  tall and bearded and clad in the cleanest linens he could get his hands on.

"How swift is your Adventure?" Jorah asked as the captain halted in front of him.

The Adventure's master looked around at his crew and then at Jorah. "There is none swifter, everyone in Oldtown knows that. Adventure can run down the wind itself. Tell me where you wish to sail, and swiftly I shall bring you there."

"I seek passage to King's Landing for myself and my wife."

That gave the captain pause. "I am no stranger to King's Landing. I could make it to the city again, aye ... but why? There are no profits to be had in King's Landing, no good to be found there. Rhaegar Targaryen has put an end to that. Those Essosi masters of his has control of the port now and whatever they could get their dirty hands on belongs to them. Tell me, my friend, what is there in King's Landing that you should want to go there?"