New students start from 'Game of Thrones'

Chapter 29 Growing Complexity

"Owen, there's something I need you to arrange," Eddard Stark said after a moment of thought."My lord? What is it?" Owen asked."This afternoon, Baelish mentioned that in the weeks before Jon Arryn died, he was fixated on a blacksmith's shop—kept going back to see the owner. It's in a large building at the top of the Street of Steel. I want to go see it myself tomorrow," Eddard told him."I think I know the one you're talking about. I commissioned two Valyrian steel swords there a while back. Come to think of it, they should be nearly done by now," Owen said."I heard about that—Arya told me when she got back. I've been meaning to ask if you're sure you weren't cheated," Eddard said, glancing at Owen."We'll find out tomorrow. It's been long enough—they must be at least halfway finished. Maybe I'll even get a new sword tomorrow," Owen shrugged."Then we'll wait and see," Eddard said with a smile."But my lord—if you go tomorrow, every move we make will be watched. If we do find something, the wrong people will know about it too," Owen said, feigning concern."I know. But I have to go. I need to understand why Jon Arryn was so interested in a blacksmith's shop," Eddard said firmly."Very well, my lord. I'll go make arrangements right away," Owen replied, then turned to leave.By the next morning, Owen had already had the horses fed and saddled, waiting for Eddard to finish his Small Council duties before they left. Vayon Poole was there too, but Harris and Hill—Owen's most trusted men—were staying behind to guard Arya and Sansa.Owen and Vayon waited at the base of the Hand's Tower until nearly noon, when Eddard finally came down from his chambers, a sword at his waist. The three wasted no time: they mounted their horses and rode quickly toward the Street of Steel.When they arrived at Tobho Mott's smithy, the place was as bustling as ever. The old man was still wearing his ornate robe, dabbing sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief as if he were a nobleman, not a blacksmith.As soon as they reined in their horses, Tobho spotted Owen and hurried over."Ser Owen! Welcome back!" Tobho said, bowing to him."You're too kind," Owen replied."You've come at the perfect time! Both swords are finished! From today onward, you'll wield two Valyrian steel blades," Tobho said with a grin."That was fast—there are still a few days left until the month is up. You're not trying to pass off ordinary steel as Valyrian, are you?" Owen asked, skeptical."Never! I used a new forging method this time—casting the blade blanks in a single mold, then forging them to finish. It's much quicker," Tobho hastened to explain."Good. Lucky for you, I brought the rest of the gold," Owen said with a smile."I'll fetch your swords right away!" Tobho said, eager to collect the payment."Wait a moment. Find us a quiet place. A lord has questions for you," Owen called after him.Tobho glanced at Eddard and Vayon behind Owen, then said, "Follow me. The storage room in the back is quiet."He turned and led them inside the smithy. Owen stepped aside to let Eddard go first, then followed with Vayon, both staying alert.The storage room was filled with ore, steel ingots, and crates—one of which was locked, clearly holding something valuable."Let me introduce you. This is Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Hand of the King. He has questions for you. Answer truthfully," Owen said, turning to Tobho."Your Grace! Ask anything—I'll tell you whatever I know," Tobho said, bowing deeply."Did the late Hand, Jon Arryn, visit your shop often before he died?" Eddard cut straight to the point."The late Hand did come a few times, Your Grace. Unfortunately, I never had the honor of doing work for him," Tobho replied.It was a clever answer—he admitted Jon had visited, but distanced himself from any involvement, washing his hands of the matter entirely."What did he come for?" Eddard pressed."To see a boy. Every time he came, he'd call the boy over to talk to him," Tobho said."What boy? Where is he now?" Eddard asked, frowning."The boy's outside. I'll get him," Tobho said, walking to the door. He called out to a young man hammering a steel blank, "Gendry! Come here!"Gendry set down his hammer reluctantly and walked into the storage room."This is him, Your Grace. Strong for his age, and hardworking too," Tobho said, his eyes lighting up as if he were selling a fine piece of metal.Eddard froze the moment he saw Gendry. The resemblance was uncanny—he looked exactly like Robert had when he was a teenager.Tobho, mistaking Eddard's scrutiny for doubt, turned to Gendry. "Go fetch the helmet you made. Let His Grace see it."Gendry left reluctantly, then returned moments later with a horned helmet, which he handed to Eddard."It's well-crafted," Eddard said, examining it."I'm not selling it—it's for me," Gendry said, glancing at the helmet in Eddard's hands."Now, boy—watch your tongue! This is the Hand of the King," Tobho snapped, cutting him off."Forgive him, Your Grace," he added, turning to Eddard."It's nothing," Eddard said. He looked at Gendry. "What did Lord Arryn say to you when he visited?""He just asked questions. When I started working here, how Master Mott treats me, if I liked the work," Gendry said, glancing at Tobho."Then he asked about my mother," he added."Your mother?" Eddard asked, surprised."Yes. Who she was, what she looked like... things like that," Gendry said."What did you tell him?" Eddard pressed."She died when I was little," Gendry said, his voice softening with sadness."Her hair was yellow. She used to sing to me sometimes," he continued. A look of longing crossed his face; he bowed his head, his shoulders slumping."Look up at me," Eddard said. The boy's features were so familiar it hurt.Gendry lifted his head. Eddard was certain now—this was Robert's bastard. Gendry looked exactly like Robert had at his age, down to the way he held himself... and that dark hair."Go back to work, boy," Eddard said, handing him the helmet."If ever he grows tired of forging swords, or wants to become a warrior, send him to me," Eddard told Tobho, then turned to leave.Vayon followed him at once."Remember what His Grace said," Owen told Tobho."Now, bring me my swords," he added, unfastening his coin pouch and weighing it in his hand."Right away, Ser!" Tobho said, grinning. He unlocked the locked crate in the corner and pulled out two swords, their scabbards and hilts carved with intricate patterns.Owen took the swords; their weight felt different—solid, balanced. He drew them, and the blades glinted sharply in the firelight. The balance was perfect, the grip comfortable."Ser, you may test them if you like," Tobho said, placing an ordinary steel blank on a stand.Owen didn't hesitate. He swung both swords down hard at the blank. There was a sharp clang—the steel split into three pieces instantly. He inspected his Valyrian steel blades: not a single nick on the edges, the blades straight and unbent."Excellent. Worthy of Valyrian steel," Owen said, smiling as he admired the swords."Get me a sword belt," he told Tobho, handing over the coin pouch."At once!" Tobho said, taking the pouch eagerly.When Owen walked out of the smithy, he looked like a different man: one sword at his waist, the other slung across his back. He'd left his old steel sword with Tobho."You look like the Sword of the Morning," Eddard said, glancing at him."I don't know who that is. All I know is I'm a bannerman of the Warden of the North," Owen said, mounting his horse with a smile.Eddard finally cracked a smile at that.The three turned their horses around, ready to head back the way they'd come."My lord—should we get the boy to the ship first?" Owen asked softly."You saw it too?" Eddard said."I don't know what the king looked like when he was young, but the boy shares more than a few features with Lord Renly," Owen replied."We'll talk about it when we get back. I don't know what to do with him right now," Eddard said, frowning.Silence fell between them as they rode slowly toward the Red Keep.Then, a commotion broke out on the Street of the Sisters. They turned to look.A company of soldiers was marching toward them from the Gate of the Gods—only four or five hundred men, but all wearing red cloaks. Leading them was a short, broad-shouldered noble with golden hair: Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, back from the Wall."My lord—we have trouble," Owen said, watching the approaching army.Eddard's face darkened as he stared at the red cloaks. He didn't snap out of it until the Lannister force reached them, and Tyrion bowed to him from horseback."Let's go. It seems we need more men too," Eddard muttered.The three spurred their horses, riding quickly back to the Red Keep.