It was well after midday when I finally left my rooms. Margaery had barely stirred when I left the bed, her eyes still puffed up from crying. I had wished to stay as well; my muscles were sore and aching, and my head still throbbed from the effort of throwing my will against the ruby.
A failed effort, I reminded myself. That stung more than any mundane pain I was feeling. I just wanted to lay in bed for the rest of the day, but one glance outside my window set me straight. Smoke still covered half the city like a black cloud, casting the streets in darkness. It cast a shadow in my mood too, and suddenly I knew I wouldn't be able to go to sleep even if I wanted to.
Dressing up with a simple doublet and breeches, I headed for the door. I left orders not to be disturbed by any servant, so I would need to eat before assembling my council. When I opened the door, Lyle Crakehall stood at attention to the side. He must have changed with Loras sometime in the night. "Ser Lyle," I said. "Nice to see you well."
The Strongboar swallowed and nodded. "And you, Your Grace."
I noticed he couldn't quite meet my eyes and almost laughed. There was something comical about a veritable giant being afraid of you. But he wasn't the only one there. On the other side of the hallway, the young Harte boy, Ser Elwood's son and heir, was shuffling his feet. I always had someone waiting for me outside my room to serve as a runner, and Elwood had impressed me enough that I honored him by taking his son to page.
"Royce," I called. "I've got two jobs for you. First, send word to my small council and Lady Olenna. I will have need of them in one hour's time, in the old council room behind the great hall." I didn't feel like walking all the way to the Tower of the Hand. Let Tywin do some of the legwork for once. "Then find Alyce and tell her to bring my food there as well, as soon as possible."
The boy nodded enthusiastically and took off, and I started going the other way, Ser Lyle behind me.
A king's work was never done.
xxxx
Tywin stormed into the council room just as I put my fork down for the last time. "Why was I told my son died yesterday?" he barked. "Only for you to pray over him and bring him back to life? What sort of nonsense is this?"
I dabbed at the corners of my mouth with a kerchief and pushed the plate to the side. Alyce, who'd been waiting beside the table, had gone pale as milk with the Lord of Lannister's entrance, then even more so as she realized what he said. I waved her away before turning back to Tywin.
"Nothing but the truth," I told him, watching the girl scurry out of the room. Tywin was not the kind of man to believe in tall tales. The more I talked of the divine intervention that saw Jaime and his hand brought back, the less he would regard it as truth. His doubts would only be assuaged once he saw it with his own eyes. "I assume you've had men check to see if Jaime is still alive, at the very least?"
My calm answer had put a stop to his fury, but he still looked disturbed. "He's in his cell at the White Sword Tower, sleeping," he grunted.
Before I could answer, I heard people coming from beyond the doors and lifted a finger. "We'll speak later, Lord Hand."
Ignoring Tywin almost imploding where he stood, I saw Mace and Olenna stride through the doors, Grand Maester Pycelle slogging behind them. They were a sad lot, my small council, but I'd be making a few changes soon enough.
They took their time taking their seats and I simply kept watching, drumming fingers on the wooden table. The pleasant face I had when speaking with Tywin had turned to a mask of frostiness.
Olenna was the first to shoot. "How is Margaery, Your Grace, now that you seem to have sole custody of her?" she asked. "She's still locked up in your room, isn't she? Poor girl. She was very attached to Megga—treated her like a little sister."
"I must remind you, Your Grace." That was Mace, looking like a giant toad draped in green silk and velvet. "My Margaery is still a maiden, and you've yet to be married. It is most improper for her to be in your room unaccompanied, even if Loras guards the door."
Instead of answering either of them right away, I waited quietly for a long moment, staring off at a distant window. On the corner of my eyes, I noticed that Olenna just kept staring at me, but Mace turned a dark red at the cheeks.
Pausing my fingers at the table, I looked back at the Tyrells. "You requested, Lady Olenna, to guard the Tyrell apartments with your men only. I objected of course, but you were adamant. A matter of trust, you said, then asked me to extend that hand of friendship. And you put two guards… two guards, to watch over the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms' door. And the only reason the other girls are still alive is because Mira Forrester and her other cousin look too much like Margaery to risk killing. Since you and your men have proven yourselves unequipped to protect her, you can consider that trust summarily revoked."
Olenna's face soured. "You don't have to scold me like a child at the teat," she said, huffing. "I can manage that myself well enough. "
I waved dismissively. "See to it that your men remove themselves by tomorrow. You can have your household knights remain at the Keep, but your guardsmen will have to find lodgings in the city from now on."
Olenna nodded resignedly, but Mace looked scandalized. "Your Grace, surely—"
"End of discussion, my lord," I cut in.
"Would it be possible to speak with our grand hero of the night, then?" Olenna asked. "That kingsguard of yours, the Swann knight."
A tight smile twisted my lips. She still presumed too much, even after shutting her down by taking the Tyrell armsmen out of the castle. I had to admit, she did have balls.
"Ser Balon does not serve at your pleasure, my lady," I told her. "Pray remember that."
At the opposite side of the table, Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but just before the fires started in the city, and the attack on Lady Margaery, I tended to some of your knights who returned from your expedition to the kingswood. Is there any merit to their report of an ambush on your party?"
Olenna perked up, a shark smelling blood. "Loras was very tight-lipped about it, but from what I heard from him and rumors circulating the Red Keep, Jaime was near death's door before the injured party left."
Tywin scoffed. "My son is alive and well, I assure you. What worries me most is the king being ambushed in his own woods."
"We shall talk about it later," I said curtly. Let the rumors and stories of yesterday speak for themselves. I had no need to prattle on about my miracles when half a hundred knights would gladly do it for me. "We have more pressing matters. Tell me of the fires, my Lord Hand. What is the damage so far?"
"Some five hundred to a thousand peasants perished with the flames," Tywin said matter-of-factly, as if reading from a list. Not particularly attached to smallfolk, the old lion was. "Along with great swathes of the northern part of the Street of Silk and most of Flea Bottom. The eastern section of the Dragonpit collapsed, and half of the whores in the Seven Kingdoms stand homeless and workless. Thousands of peasants are camped outside the walls of the city, and we can expect more of the dispossessed to move there in the next few days."
I nodded. Not as bad as I expected, but I needed to be seen putting work into this as soon as possible.
"Grand Maester," I said, turning to the old fool. "You will send some of the maesters and acolytes in the city to the camps outside, with a strong escort of guardsmen to protect them. They will heal and care for the infirm. For now, we will provide them food and water as well, on the Crown's expense. I want gold cloak patrols in these camps, too. The King's peace ought to be maintained." "
"As you wish, Your Grace," Pycelle mumbled, though he looked none too happy about it.
"Then we'll set up the men to help in the reconstruction," I continued. "Organize parties to the kingswood for lumber; see if there are any carpenters and stonemasons among them and put them to work. Lord Tywin, you once said Tyrion was responsible for fixing the Rock's cisterns and sewers, no?" He nodded tightly. "Then he shall be responsible for this project as well. It's past time to revitalize Flea Bottom. We'll have sewers and good housing for the people of the city. Perhaps even the stench will lessen in its vileness."
"The smallfolk were packed like rats in the warrens," Tywin interjected. "Even if Flea Bottom is rebuilt to better standards, we won't be able to accommodate as many people as there were before."
I sighed. Even Tywin had a hard time thinking outside the box when it came to stuff like this. "Then we'll be industrious with our smallfolk, grandfather. We'll settle them in the recovered areas of the Riverlands, or send them to farm the fields of the Reach and the Westerlands. Or give them a pike and a helmet and call them soldiers. We need every man we can get in the wars to come."
"And which wars would that be?" Olenna asked.
I couldn't rightly tell them about Aegon, and Daenerys at this point was just a boogeymen half a world away. "The war is not over while Stannis and Balon Greyjoy live," I told her. "There can only be one king in the Seven Kingdoms. And one Queen, no? Unless you mean to leave the likes of Selyse Baratheon to contest Margaery's claim."
Mace nearly pounded his meaty fists on the table. "Never," he hissed. His buttons were as easy to push as a toddler's. "We shall bring these pretenders down, one and all."
I nodded. "Well said, Lord Tyrell. I knew I could count on a man of vision like yourself." He preened like a peacock at my words. "Now then, you are all dismissed for today. Lady Olenna, see to the shipment of more grain and cattle for the capital. Grand Maester, I want the first party of maester out in the camps by the end of the day. Lord Tywin, stay behind if you will."
When the rest of my diminished council had left, I turned to my grandfather. "Kevan failed," I told him, not even bothering to look at him as I stood up from my chair. "The men who ambushed me in the kingswood were Littlefinger's, and I would give up my crown if the kidnappers who came for Margaery weren't his hired thugs as well. No other man alive would know of the existence of the tunnels as well as him. And if the fires started on the Street of Silk, then it started on one of his brothels."
Tywin's face was stony, but his eyes glinted with anger. Whether it was aimed at myself for pointing a finger at his brother, or at Kevan for his blunder, I didn't know. "If he failed," Tywin said, "then something happened. Kevan is a cautious man."
I wanted to snort. How difficult was it to capture someone when I basically hand-delivered them to him? But it wasn't in my best interest to poke the lion with a short stick. So I just said, "We shall see, then."
"And the rumors about Jaime?" Tywin asked, keeping his icy tone.
"Feel free to ask him yourself, my lord, he is off duty for today," I said, heading for the door.
I couldn't dally in the council room for the rest of the day. I had a vampire to find.