Capítulo 3: {3} Not today
It was deep below the House of Black and White that Aegor Snow, a twelve year old bastard, stood. It was a cold room, grey and shadowed. It was illuminated only by an oil lamp hanging from the wall to the side. There were two seats beside a cluttered desk covered with disorganised papers. Aegors eyes seemed violet in the lamp light and he cast glances towards a cabinet that stood beside the wall.
A man stood over a small table with a pitcher of water and two wooden cups. His back was to Aegor, who took a half step towards the cabinet. The man was one of the Faceless Men. Syrio, Jaqen, half a hundred different names. He was the man who had been teaching Aegor in the ways of the blade for the past four years.
Jory Cassel returned to Westeros when Aegor was eight name days, and so Aegor sought someone else for martial guidance. Ser Arthur taught him strategy and battle tactics but it was Jaqen who taught him to kill. Arthur taught him to fight, to joust, he taught Aegor everything a knight of Westeros should know but it was under the tutelage of the faceless men that Aegor learnt to bring death like an author writing characters out of a story book. His quill stroke left the red ink of blood as he had been taught.
The Faceless men had magics under their Temple of Black and White. Aegor was given potions and elixirs in his second year of training. They enhanced his senses, made him faster, stronger. His eyes saw farther, his ears heard more. And he grew also, he grew immensely. Towering over those his age. He was also given small dosages of countless poisons so he would build up a tolerance to them and he drank them gladly as they would make him stronger.
One magic he had not learned was the one they were most famous for. The ability to change your own face. Hundreds of faces lined the walls of the deep caverns of the House of Black and White but Aegor had not been permitted to wear one of these faces, for his training was not yet complete. He still had one test left.
At the beginning they would give him easy tasks. Go out into the city and catch cats. So for a month on end he would chase cats and come home to strange like from Arthur and forlorn looks from Dany, who with a single stroke had been all but entirely cut out from his life.
After he had caught, what must have been every cat in Braavos, he was sent to the docks and told to balance on a single foot for the entire day. The first time he tried he fell into tue water after only five minutes. By weeks end he stood for twelve hours. Come the moons turn Aegor stood atop a leaning wooden beam, upon a single foot, as Jaqen threw dulled knives at him and only when Aegor could dodge each knife four an hour straight did they move on. It took two moons for that to happen.
By then Aegor was ecstatic, he believed he would be taught the Water Dance of Braavos. Instead Jaqen sent him to steal a coin from a guard. He spent a week in a dark cell for that as he was caught almost immediately. When he finally got out and went back to the manse he was greeted by a wailing Dany, a sneering Viserys, a distraught Ashara and a disappointed Arthur and Willem.
They looked at his dirty figure and were at a loss for words, Aegor told them he had gotten lost. Viserys mocked him, Ashara just wept for his safe return but Arthur and Willem where unconvinced. Meanwhile Dany clinger to him tightly for the rest of the week, refusing to leave his side. The entire time she asked why he was no longer with her, she did not know how to handle it. Since they were babes he was her shadow, her protector and now he was gone for often than he was there.
Aegor could not speak truly, could not tell her that he was training to kill so he could keep her safe. Because that's why he did it, he did it all so he could protect her from every sort of evil that would lay their dark hands on her. Staring into her innocent, violet eyes Aegor knew. He knew in the very depths of his soul that before their time in the world was done he would stain all of Essos and Westeros red with blood. And he would do it all for her, not for Viserys, not for the Iron Throne but for her.
Staring into her eyes that day only strengthened his resolve and so a week after his imprisonment ended he snuck out and went back to the House of Black and White. Jaqen beat him bloody for disappearing, saying that as soon as he was released he should have returned for another lesson. He was still bloody when Jaqen took him aside and told him, again, to steal a coin from a guard.
That got him another week in prison, another week consoling Dany and another beating from Jaqen. It took another few months until he became good enough that Jaqen could point to a figure in the crown and a minute later Aegor could return with his coin pouch, the rings on his finger, all without the man being any wiser.
Then at last Jaqen deemed him ready. He taught him the way if the Water Dancer. They used training blades for a month until Aegor grasped the basics of the fighting style. Then Jaqen gave him a blade, real steel and from then on each lesson resulted in a cut. After each cut he would be given a remedy in the House of Black and White that ensured there were no scars but the pain of that lesson would remain for a month, to ensure he remembered.
It was a a year of training with the blade, two years since his training began, when Jaqen gave him a target. It was some merchant who had docked a week earlier and was looking for deck hands. Aegor went to him and offered himself as a worker. By then Aegor was strong for his age and tall, the man looked him over and decided he was too young to take an oar but could pale water from the hull and so a week later, the night they were about to sail for Tyrosh the merchant was found mysteriously killed in his own chambers. His head cracked on his own bed post. The guards all agreed, clearly the man slipped.
Then after that first kill more came, merchants, beggars, nobility, priests. At first Aegor would scratch their faces into his memory but now they had faded, people die every second, why should he weep for some merchant. The Stranger comes for us all, Aegor is simply its instrument. Later in his life Aegor would come to understand, the best way to make a soldier, to make someone who would loyally follow you into a breach, the true way to make a killer is to start young. Have them kill before they're old enough to know just how terrifying it is to end a life with nothing but a blade. How terrifying, and exhilarating.
Those four years of training, with both Arthur and the Faceless Men had led to this point. Standing in this room with none other than Jaqen. Aegor closed the door to the cabinet and slipped two small vials into his sleeve just as Jaqen began turning around. Facing his teacher Aegor kept his face blank, his heart calm and his eyes steady. It was then as Jaqen turned that Aegor spotted something in his hands, a sword.
"There is a name for you Aegor." He said simply, it was not the first time a name had been spoken to the Targaryen bastard.
"The name?" Aegor asked simply as if asking about the weather.
"Should you succeed in your task and send this soul to the Many Faced God, then we shall finally complete your training. We shall teach you to change your face." Jaqen told him, entirely ignoring Aegors question, that made Aegor nervous. What was the name? Why did Jaqen hesitate to say it.
"I would also bestow on you another gift, this is not from the House of Black and White, but from me. In truth I have become fond of you Aegor, you are as quick of mind as you are of blade." A slight warmth entered his voice then as he held out the blade.
It was a thin blade, slender and sharp. Designed for precision and agility rather than power. It was a stark contrast to the heavy longswords favoured by the Westerosi knights. Aegor himself fought as well with a longsword as he did with the long razors that were perfect for the Water Dance. The hilt of the short sword was minimalistic, with a small guard and a leather bound handle.
"I may have become fond of you Aegor, but that ends today. Today Aegor Snow dies and no one takes his place." Aegor knew immediately what was being said to him. The Faceless Men did not have individuals within their ranks, they had no one. Aegor had to cast his last aside, his family aside. It was his final test.
"Who gave this name to the God of Death?" Aegor asked, trying desperately not to betray his nerves.
"No one, it is a test given by the House of Black and White itself." That told Aegor everything he needed to know. If he did not kill this person then they would not send another Faceless man to do it, it also told him the name would be personal to him.
"What is the name?" Aegor all but demanded of the man before him, his hand clenched hard around the hilt of his new blade.
"Valar morghulis." Jaqen said, avoiding the question.
"Who would you have me kill?" Aegor fought to keep his voice low.
"Viserys Targaryen." The whispered name echoed around Aegors head for a moment.
"Valar morghulis, Aegor." Jaqen said.
"Valar morghulis." The young Snow repeated the word as if not truly hearing them.
Jaqen was hopeful for a moment that Aegor would indeed cast away his past, setting aside Aegor Snow in favour of no one. That hope was fleeting and was dashed away when Jaqen looked into the eyes of his young student and saw in them a burning fury. Aegor knew also in that moment what needed to be done. Viserys was a cruel boy and he would be a horrid king, but he was still Aegors uncle, Dany's brother.
"No man is so accursed as a kinslayer, and despite not sharing his name I share his blood." Aegor said, his voice more growl than speech.
"The Many Faced God does not turn away from any service done in his nameless name." Jaqen argued.
"But the Seven Gods of my homeland would curse me kinslayer. The Old Gods of my mothers House of Stark. Even the Fourteen Flames of my fathers ancestors would curse me." Aegor snarled and half drew the short sword from its sheath.
Jaqen snarled, as if he was about to cast those Gods aside as false idols before the God of Death. But a resigned look passed over him instead. He knew Aegor had made up his mind, Jaqen had as well, now this arguement only delayed the inevitable.
"Aegor, my sharp pupil." He sounded sad as he said this but steeled himself for what was to come.
"You know too much."
With that Aegor sprang into action, the tip of his sword lifted the oil lamp from the wall and with a wide sweep he sent the open flame across the room. Jaqen ducked and the oil lamp soared overhead but Aegor was not done. Reaching a hand into his sleeve he grabbed one of the two vials he took from the cabinet, a flick of his blade sent Jaqen back a step then the bastard hurled the vial into the flames.
Green mist filled the room and Jaqen looked panicked for a moment before an icy mask covered his features. Aegor did not look to see what Jaqen did next, instead he spun on his heels and ran. He went shoulder first through the old oak door, bursting from the dark room with a crash that echoed around the cavern he now found himself in. The walls were covered in faces, hundreds and thousands of lifeless faces, all staring at him with dead pools of blackness.
Aegor ignored them all, sprinting through the cavern. Taking secret tunnels, twists and turns, hidden staircases and spinning walls. He used the countless tricks and secret passageways that resided under the House of Black and White to stay one step ahead of Jaqen. He had reached the final staircase when he faced his first opposition. A man on the stairs, in his hand a long razor sharp knife.
Aegor ran at the man and met him half way up the stairs. He dropped to one knee, the knife swipe sailing harmlessly overhead. Then stabbing upwards with his short sword he cut along the inside of the man's thigh, severing a vain near the groin. With a scream the man half tumbled, Aegor pressed the advantage and smashed his last vial on the man's cheek. The clear liquid seemed to steam when exposed to air and it melted the skin off the downed man's face. Then with a kick Aegor sent him down the staircase.
As he kicked the man, three more figures appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Jaqen and two faceless men, all wielding swords similar to Aegors. The bastard continued up the stairs, out the door at the top and into a shadowed alleyway, the door fitting perfectly into the brick wall. He was out of the House of Black and White but three Faceless men were right behind him. He hadn't made it out of the alley before the first came through the same door.
Aegor knew he could not run forever, so instead he spun in his heels and attacked. He went lightning quick, stabbing and slashing, keeping the man always on his back foot. Aegor side stepped a counter cut and found himself with his back to the door just as the second man exited. The newcomer thought he could take Aegor by surprise and lunged forward, point first. But Aegor had been wielding a blade before he could spell and with all his training with Jaqen he had been moulded into a perfect herald of death.
Leaning to the side and ducking had both blades passing harmlessly. Then bringing his elbow up he smashed the joint into the second man's face before smashing forward at the first. But then they composed themselves, and Aegor found himself against two killers wearing faces that aren't their own.
Suddenly it was as if the roles had reversed. Now it was Aegor on the back foot, his thin blade whipping out to parry then he was ducking, surging forward, parrying again, dodging again, slashing but only meeting air, he stepped back, cut downward, stabbed, parried, slashed. Then suddenly the clashing of steel stopped. Jaqen stood watching, so did a crowd.
They had fought their way to the edge of the alley and now they stood at the end of a market square. Rows of stalls stood in orderly lines but the people were all watching Aegor and the Faceless Men. The people of Braavos loved a good duel as much as the next man, and there were few people as skilled with a blade as the Assassins of the Many Faced God.
Jaqen walked from the shadows of the alleyway. The people noticed his robes, half black and half white. Those who were smart fled then without a single word, the rest saw the fear on their faces and did the same. Within an instant the square was empty except for Aegor, Jagen and the two assassins. There was no doubt guards would arrive soon enough, but the chances they would intervene with a Faceless Man were low. Aegor would have to deal with this himself.
He levelled his sword so it pointed at Jaqen's chest. The Faceless Man smiled, the gesture was tinged with sadness. Aegor did not wait for him but fainted high then slashed at his thighs. But Jaqen calmly stepped backwards. The two Faceless men did not bother to move as Jaqen toyed with Aegor. And it was toying. Jaqen did not even bother raising his blade for the first minute of their duel, instead he side stepped or dodged each blade stroke.
Finally his steel flashed forward but still he was toying with his old pupil, smashing his knee with the flat of his blade, deflecting each stab and stroke Aegor sent his way as if he was fending off a child. Although in truth Jaqen was fending off a child. What was Aegor compared to him. Aegor who was only twelve name days against the greatest sword master serving the House of Black and White. A man who breathed death on his opponents with his Water Dance. He brought the shirt duel to an end by spinning away from Aegors slash and smashing the pommel of his sword into the bastards jaw.
Aegor Snow sprawled to the ground, blood in his mouth. Neither had cut the other in their duel but it was clear to both who had won. Aegor looked as if it was his first time holding a swords, as he lay in the ground at Jaqens feet. Aegor looked up at the stall before him and he watched three shadows close in behind him. He could not die, he would not die. Not here. Not before he could embrace Ashara again, before he could sit through another of Ser Willem's boorish lectures. Not before he could spar with Ser Arthur, the one armed Sword in the Morning. Not before he could apologise to Dany for how distant he had become of late.
"What do we say to the God of Death?" Jaqen asked and Aegor watched three shadows raise their dark blades. He only had one answer.
"Valar morghulis." The two assassins answered Jaqens question. When Aegor did not answer Jaqen asked again.
"What do we say to the God of Death?" The man demanded of his downed foe and he smiled when he heard Aegor answer.
"Not today."
With that he rose, Aegor did not bother to turn knowing as soon as he did there would be three blades in his gut. Instead he surged forward, clutching his sword close to his chest he leapt through the stall before him. Landing on the other side he heard gasps of shock from the two assassins, Jaqen made not noise. There were guards near the entrance of the market square, two of them and they stood beside a broken wall.
He looked for only half a second before making up his mind. Putting his back to the stall he pushed with all his might and the stall crashed down on the three men behind him as Aegor heaved. He fought back his exhaustion and took off towards the guards. He had no time to deal with the two, not while he was being chased by three of the most dangerous men in Braavos.
There were two, garbed in green half cloaks, high boots, shining ring mail and ceramic face masks. The one of the right had a curved sword sheathed on his belt while the man on the left had a spear. The man on Aegors right began to speak but did not finish his first word before a short sword was stabbed through his jaw and into his brain. At the same moment Aegor grasped the handle to the curved sword and wrenched it free, with a savage cut it shattered the ceramic of the mask and cut deep into his neck.
Blood poured down the blade, pooling in his hands as he ripped it from the man's neck. Aegor was thankful for the masks so he did not have to look at the faces of those men, those who were innocent but still died. He had become desensitised to death but he was still human and the eyes that shone and dimmed through the ceramic masks would remain in his dreams.
Aegor rushed past the men, no doubt being chased by the Faceless Men. He used the partially collapsed wall as a staircase, stepping carefully on the fragile stones, both blades stretched out on either side of him for balance. Reaching the top of the 'staircase' it was only a quick jump for him to be on a tiled roof of a squat, wide house.
It was then he turned for the first time to find that he was correct, the collapsed stall did not slow them for long, all three were following close behind. In fact they were so close the first man had already begun to climb the dilapidated wall. Aegor raised both swords across his body and brought them down in savage cuts, hacking at the roof tiles sending down a tide of stone, the chunks slamming against his three pursuers.
Then turning he ran, jumping three buildings before finding the place he would make his stand. It was a courtyard by the waterfront. A small area, enclosed on four sides bar the small doorway opening up to the docks. But there was something specific that made Aegor chose Thai place. A series of lines were slung from each of the walls, a dozen lines and draped on each of them were great cloths of white fabric. A maze of fluttering white walls, each of them making it nearly impossible to see your opponent, yet your opponent would cast strange shadows through the fabric.
Aegor dropped into the courtyard and did not have to wait a full minute before two figures followed him down. When he had fought them before he had struggled to keep up with two opponents. Not this time. His short sword stabbed while his curved blade slashed. Savage cuts and piercing strikes. Twirling dodges and whipping fabric. Aegor was a whirlwind of steel, when he was finished the white maze was tatters in the wind and all that remained was stained red with the blood of his foes.
The final strike had Aegor lodge his curved blade into a man's spine. Aegor himself had been caught by a lucky slash during the fight and the wound pained his upper arm but compared to the devastation he wrought in his own opponents it was a minimal loss. Aegor smiled to himself, the smile died as Jaqen dropped down into the courtyard. He had stood, watching the two men die. He looked at the corpses proudly.
"Valar morghulis." He said, a complement for a kill well delivered.
"Valar morghulis." Aegor acknowledged.
"You should have just killed the boy. Uncle or not, you have no love for the man." Jaqen said as he readied his blade.
"I will not die a kinslaying bastard." Aegor insisted.
"No. But you will die bastard. A killer, forgotten and alone."
Aegor did not take up the guards curved sword, instead only raising his short sword. Steel rang on steel, the sound of whistling steel echoed through the midday air. People ran when they saw the Black and White robes, so it took less than a moment for the small dock to be empty as Jaqen drove Aegor ever closer to the shore line. By the time Aegor reached the end of the dock, he was ready to collapse.
Small waves crashed softly against the creaking wood. Jaqen stood, untouched by Aegors steel. So did the Targaryen bastard. However now Aegor had no where to run. The water to his back and Jaqen before him. He would die here, if that he was certain. But he would die fighting despite how outclassed he was. Aegor rushed, one last thrusting strike. Jaqen checked the steel then, fast as lighting his own sword shot down the length of the steel and left a dozen shallow cuts up Aegors arm.
Thin red lines ran from his elbow to his finger, the pain was excruciating and his short sword fell from his grasp as Jaqen tsked, almost sounding disappointed in his pupil. Aegor dropped to his knees, and calmed himself. He would die with dignity if nothing else. However the death blow did not come. So he raised his eyes, as he did he saw sunlight glint of steel as a blade fell.
The sword fell on his face, cutting just above his eye. The wound in his arm and on his eye would heal, if he lived long enough, but they would leave scars. In that moment however Aegor did not think of scars, he did not think he would live that long. But still the killing blow did not come. Aegor now knelt with one hand bleeding profusely and the other over his bleeding face.
"You would have been the best of us Aegor. You would have been the monster under the bed. A dagger in the dark. They would have feared you, not as Aegor but they would fear no one. They would have cowered from the man with no face." He sounded disappointed as if he had failed a test and not killed two assassins.
"Worry not my young apprentice. There will be no daggers in the dark for your family, not while I serve the Many Faced God." That confused Aegor but still he did not raise his eye from the wooden floor boards.
"What do we say to the God of Death?" He asked and Aegor answered.
"Valar morghulis." He summoned all his strength to sound defiant in those last moments.
"Not today." Jaqen corrected, then he turned and left.
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