章 4: Chapter 4
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***
Victarion frowned as he looked up at the sky - bleak and draped in black clouds, like a reflection of the face of one of Quellonn Greyjoy's sons. A bleak mood gripped the captain, despite the successful trek along the sandy shores of the Summer Isles.
He wished he could get home sooner so he could drown in the arms of his beloved concubine, but Victarion would never admit that to anyone.
As he gave out commands, Greyjoy noticed the figure of his nephew standing at the stern of the Iron Victory. A bird, exotic for these parts, was perched on his shoulder, digging into his leather jacket, under which stitched ringlets were hidden. A parrot, as Theon had called it. A bird that could talk.
It amused him a little when he first heard words from this bird. He'd seen all sorts of things, but a bird speaking in whole sentences... could he get one of those? How had his nephew taught him how to speak?
As he came closer, Victarion suddenly wrinkled his nose at the envious thought that his brother had three sons and Victarion had none....
His approach did not go unnoticed.
-Uncle,' Theon turned round. - It's nice weather today, isn't it?
-Good is a bit of a stretch, isn't it? - Vyctarion grinned, 'Kraken shit, this weather of yours.
There was silence for a while. No one knew what to say to each other, and no one dared to be the first to break the silence.
-You know, nephew. - Victarion spoke up. - You've done well for yourself. Your sword has killed several good fighters, and many have seen it. You paid an iron price for the things you keep in my quarters.
-'-I know uncle,' Theon shrugged, 'I hope father will appreciate it.
'He'll no doubt appreciate it, except he'll be making a face for sure.'
Baelon is too arrogant to recognise his own son's merit. Having lived in the same castle with him all his life, Victarion has seen that more than once.
- You're an adult now, Theon, and I will speak to you not as a child torn from his mother's tit, but as a true ironborn who has paid the iron price in blood.
Victarion looked around to see if there were any casual onlookers to their conversation.
-All of your brothers served under the flags of older relatives for the first few years before becoming captains. Your brother Rodrik went on campaigns with me, and Maron was taken under Euron's tutelage,' Victarion grimaced unknowingly at the mention of his brother. Theon, noticing his uncle's reaction, remained silent.
Everyone knew that the Greyjoy brothers disliked each other. Hate was a more accurate definition of brotherly relations. Victarion was not a man of wisdom or learning, but he was not known for his lack of vindictiveness.
- Do you want me to go under your banner until I have my own crew and ship?
Victarion nodded without a word. A straightforward Greyjoy needs only one word, yes or no.
- Uncle, I am happy to sail under your sails, but tell me, would you let me captain one of your ships in the Iron Fleet if I asked?
- It is impossible at your present age,' Victarion replied sharply.
-I am not asking now.
- If one of the ships loses its captain and the crew recognises you, then so be it, you will be the captain of the ship.
-Okay, Uncle,' Theon nodded gratefully. There was a sly spark in the boy's eyes, and he saw it perfectly. The kind you'd expect to see more in Euron than in one of Baelon's sons.
With the conversation with his nephew over, Victarion retired to his private quarters, while Theon continued to stare out at the vast sea, one hand scratching behind his parrot's tuft.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
The inhabitants of Lordport greeted those returning from the campaign with joy and keen interest. Dozens of rooks and galleys crowded the anchorage and the sails with the Greyjoy crests constantly flashed before their eyes.
Bearded priests blessed those on the shore with salt water, merchants in cloth and clattering purses of silver and copper bought up everything their fleshy hands could reach - skins, figurines, small objects.
He even saw his gilded beads in the hands of one of the merchants.
- Gold-diggers,' snorted Uthor, one of the Ironborn, 'there are more and more of them every year on the Iron Islands. In a hundred years the Archipelago will be inhabited only by fishermen and merchants. And all the raiders will be despicable farmers.
Theon looked at Uthor, short but fat. Despite his build, the man was a sturdy and tolerable warrior. Greyjoy had personally seen him halve the head of a Summoner and then take his wife in their house.
Merchants and traders were disliked by priests and raiders. But unlike the martial class, ordinary fishermen and peasants tolerated them, often trading favourably and exchanging food for useful things.
Theon travelled to Pyke with Victarion and a dozen ironborn on low horses he had bought to meet his father. The boy had been given a lift by his uncle, who was quite good with the animal.
Nothing had changed in the four months that Theon had been away - the tall, black towers and walls, the cheerful shouts from the training ground, the monotonous blows from the forge, the servants running about, and the slave labourers doing all the dirty work.
Theon returned home. Gloomy, heavy and smelly, but home.
Many people looked curiously at Theon in his ring jacket. The parrot perched on his shoulder was an unexpected attribute for Pike's courtiers - a steward passing by even squinted and blinked often, trying to see if it was an illusion.
And when the bird chirped.....
-T-those stupid Yud-dicks! - Suddenly, the parrot gave a loud voice, scaring many of the townspeople standing nearby. Talking, colourful birds had never been seen here before.
- Bark up your arse, p-palundra!
Theon reached the Great Hall of Pyke, where his father, Balon Greyjoy, sat on a stone seat. Inky charcoal, with a kraken-shaped back and armrests, the Sea Throne was impressive.
Baelon's hoarse, cackling voice travelled through the hall on a swift wind.
- It is good to see you, brother,' the lord's satisfied gaze turned to him, 'and you, my son. Your first sea voyage was a success, and with good booty,' he stared at the parrot with stiff curiosity. The parrot at him.
With a chuckle, Baelon rose from his throne with dignity and approached them. Theon and Victarion stood closest to the Lord of Pyke, and behind them crowded the Iron Fleet captains who had come to pay their respects to Lord Greyjoy.
- Soon all the Lord Reapers of the Iron Islands will be here. And I will have a feast that will change things,' Baelon announced to his younger brother in a mysterious voice. His uncle glanced at the Sea Throne and then back at his father. There was a knowledge lurking in both Victarion's and Baelon's gaze that was beyond Theon's grasp.
- How soon? - He asked.
- In half a moon they'll all be here.
- That's good.
Baelon grimaced at such a simple answer. He continued:
-And now, brother, tell me, how was your campaign, did you take much by force from the Letnians?
Victarion spoke briefly and curtly about the raids and the few weeks they'd spent in the heat of the Evergreen Archipelago.
Theon caught his father's eyes as he sat back on the Sea Throne - approving, attentive, and assessing. The captains had left the hall, leaving the kin practically alone in the hall, apart from the simple servants and guards.
Theon remained silent and thoughtful, ignoring his father's gaze. A feast after which everything would change? Little Greyjoy wanted to know what his father's words meant, but he suspected - no good would come of this change.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
-Did you miss me? - Theon asked, smiling and embracing his skinny sister.
-Very much! And what's that strange bow? - She pointed to the long, curved object in her brother's hands. It was a gift from Victarion, who remembered how deftly his nephew used to shoot arrows on the practice field.
-It's a bow made of goldilocks. -It's a bow made of goldilocks. It's a tree that only grows on the Summer Isles. They make excellent bows,' Theon looked at the target as he pulled the bowstring.
Shooting one of these was hard for a twelve-year-old boy. Theon could, but it took a lot of effort. Eager to impress his sister, he spoke up:
- Now, sweet sister, let's go a little farther away. I want to test the range of this bow. Sixty baby steps away from the target, Theon gritted his teeth and drew the bowstring a little too far. Then he launched an arrow - a regular arrow.
The arrow easily pierced the ten stuck at the very end of the compressed hay target. And that's not the limit.
Greyjoy realised why the Lethnians had forbidden the export of goldilocks from their home islands - such weapons could easily turn against their makers, and the people of the Evergreen Archipelago had seen to that in their wars with the slave traders of the Basilisk Islands.
He wondered if an arrow fired from such a bow would penetrate a leather breastplate with no defence.
Asha watched in fascination - she had always admired Theon's archery skills - and now he was proving once again that he was skilled with his long-range weapon, despite his small age.
Theon was the youngest of Lord Balon Greyjoy's brood, but Asha recognised his unusual brother's dominance. She could not compete with him in knowledge or fighting skills. All the little girl had to do was tail her brothers.
And sometimes Asha was hurt by her position. Maybe the time would come and she would become more than an extension of Theon?
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
A couple of days later, Rodrik and Maron returned, having gone on a sea voyage to Essos, to the Steps. And with them came Euron Greyjoy on his ship, a lean, fearsome ship with a single mast and black sails.
And with them, just as Father had said, the lords and their accompanying captains and their loyal men began to arrive at Lordport. Dozens of coats of arms fluttered in the main hall and corridors of the Pikes, hundreds of men in skins from Great Wick and Harlow crowded the streets of the small harbour town.
Lordsport was not so safe now, causing Theon and Asha's trips to the settlement to cease and they spent all their time in Pyke.
Sitting around the castle hearth, Theon told Asha various stories, taken from his past life and slightly modified to fit the patterns of Westeros.
The girl settled herself in a comfortable chair with a backrest and with her legs overhanging, listened to her younger brother's whimsical tale with keen interest. In funny moments she smiled white-toothed, and in difficult situations, in which the heroes got into - gloomy and became sullen.
But they were not alone in the common chambers of the Sea Tower. Nestled in a hide-insulated seat, Euron listened as well.
Without interrupting, his uncle turned all his attention to the hearth, with its intertwining tongues of bright red flame and crackling logs. But little Greyjoy felt a single eye on him - brooding and lurking with cruelty.
He couldn't help but admit it - Euron was stressing him out. But he tried to think it was the normal interest of a man fascinated by magic. Such was the reputation of the Crow's Eye - spending all his time with sorcerers from other lands, distant and mythical.
Finishing his revised account of the Lord of the Rings, Theon sighed tiredly, catching his breath. Euron, smiling crookedly and briefly, uttered:
-Interesting tales you make up, nephew. Would you like to be a Maester? Theon Maester or Theon the Composer? - Despite the sarcasm, Euron's face still remained thoughtful. Unbeknownst to Theon, some detail or fragment, something had hit the most mysterious and fearsome of all the Greyjoy family members.
-I liked it,' he continued. - Especially the story of Sauron the Necromancer and the Eye of Fire - In Ironborn culture, nicknames are important, so Theon decided to give Sauron his own nicknames in the story. To add to the importance and danger of the character, of course - too bad he lost. The evil spirit had been too arrogant and outsmarted himself with those rings.
He remained silent. Silence fell in the room. Theon exchanged glances with an unsure Asha, trying not to look at his uncle.
- 'All right, you sit and warm yourselves in front of the fire. I'm going to visit the youngest of my brothers. I'm sure he's been waiting for me,' Euron grinned carnivorously, and Theon flinched. It was no secret why he was visiting Aeron. And rumours, vile and fear-mongering rumours, had long been circulating within the walls of Pyke.
Euron rose from his chair and went a few floors below, while Theon stared at the fire. Asha remained thoughtfully silent, not interrupting his musings.
Occasionally he would see shapes and swirls in the fire, but after blinking once, Theon never saw them again.
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