Chương 3: Chapter 3
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-Son,' placing his hands on Theon's small shoulders, Baelon continued in a husky and carping voice, 'it's time for you to be an adult. You have shown that you are worthy of becoming one. Remember, our ancestor, the Red Kraken, was already raiding the Summer Isles when he was ten years old.
-Yes, Father,' Theon nodded gravely. They were at Pike's barbican, not far from the great stone bridge that connected the castle to the rest of the island and was the only entrance to it.
The Greyjoy banners were flying, a golden kraken on a black field. A troop of a hundred men were leaving the castle, and Lord Greyjoy dared to leave the citadel to see off the youngest of his children.
- Then go! Your uncle is waiting for you. Pay the iron price and remember our motto.' In a dark waistcoat embroidered with gold thread, a cloak of dense grey wool with a red border, Baelon looked at Theon intently with his flint-black, sharp eyes.
-We do not sow!
-Yes,' Baelon nodded affirmatively, shaking his long black hair, 'we do not sow. Go, boy, and come back a man.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
Two long years had passed... Theon had grown taller, stronger in muscle, and could confidently fight off a grown man. A poorly trained one, but a warrior. His confidence had come from a couple of fights with Pike's rookie guards, from which Theon had emerged victorious.
His successes have not gone unnoticed - when Theon defeated Maron in another fight, even Baelon came down and praised his son.
Now he sets off on a sea voyage with Victarion Greyjoy to become an adult and pay the Iron Price.
All the way to the Summer Isles, Theon has been learning the wisdom of seafaring on a ship - learning from the more experienced how to properly make knots, navigate the sea, and learn to swim. He had just been thrown overboard at one point. And it was done personally by his uncle. With an admonition from the captain of the Iron Victory, Theon flew into the abyss of the sea.
The icy water and wind did their job, choking and miraculously staying alive, he remembered everything he knew about sailing from his past life. What came next seemed too vague and confusing. At one point, young Greyjoy felt the surface beneath his feet, only to collapse on it exhausted and tired, like an ox that had ploughed all day.
He was quickly dried, changed into warmer clothes, and praised - few could get out of the water on their own. Usually, the rescuer had to be rescued, but in doing so, he lost a modicum of respect and authority. And Theon had received nothing but approval and respect. He had actually climbed into the ship on his own, which he didn't believe himself.
So he travelled to the Summer Isles in the company of the old pirates. The journey had been a month and a half, and Theon had picked up a lot of impressions from the sea voyage.
Bloody gums from scurvy, the harsh life of ironborn sailors, arguments, fights, which were quickly put down, but were not uncommon on the ship. Greyjoy saw how the pirates of the Isles entertained themselves - the bones did not satiate them, and they attracted the sharks of the South Sea with blood and other cunning methods.
As soon as there were enough sea lions, a daredevil would stand on the board and do various somersaults - of varying degrees of difficulty and danger - on its edges.
No one had fallen during the journey yet, but the first few times Theon had watched the spectacle with bated breath.
'I think I understand why in Westeros the ironborn are considered either idiots or lunatics!'
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
It has long since been nightfall in the hot lands of the Summer Isles. The natives, the Letnians tall and onyx-skinned, having held a revelatory feast in the name of their gods, were now sleeping soundly under the weight of wine and fatigue. This was the fatal moment for them.
A black shadow with a vague yellow glow appeared in the distance. As they approached, it appeared to be a black sail with a golden kraken as a crest. But the black sail was not the only one - it was followed by a dozen more of them. None of the Summoners noticed it.
The ironborn ships were quietly sailing along the water surface, quickly approaching the sandy shore.
Only when an ironborn's foot stepped on the land of a small island did someone sound the alarm, but it was too late.
Theon followed not far behind his uncle. He wore a finely wrought jacket of shiny ringlets stitched over quilted layers of wool. His head was covered by a hemispherical helmet adjusted to the size of his head.
He was too young and too inexperienced to fight in the front lines. He didn't want to kill his older brother's youngest son in the first raid.
In his hands, a short sword and a round shield. The Letnians preferred to fire on their enemies from afar, if Vyctarion's words were to be believed.
And indeed - he fended off a couple of arrows with his shield, despite his distance from the main battle. A couple of ironborn fell to their deaths, drenched in blood. The Ironborn roared with rage and sped up, quickly crossing the shore and smashing into the unprotected small town.
Few could offer resistance - most, newly awake and unaware, were either quickly dead or slave labourers.
The Summoners hid in their homes and tried to catch the hated pirates. Iron-tipped spears were thrust into the backs of careless raiders, but the few inhabitants of the Evergreen Archipelago were lucky.
As Greyjoy walked the bloodstained streets of the fallen settlement, he saw the islanders breaking into homes and taking their most precious possessions. Exotic animal skins, a few bows of goldilocks, statuettes of foreign gods, or food scraps.
Some of the wooden huts began to catch fire, and Theon heard the shrill moans of women.
- Ambugo Mapato! - shouted a black-skinned summer man with a strange blade in his hand who suddenly sprang out of nowhere. Thick and double-edged, it promised to split Theon's head open if he didn't dodge in time.
The black man kept up his pace and continued to swing his weapon recklessly at the small ironborn who was covered by his shield.
Strike!
There was a cracking sound and Theon fell to the ground. The shield split into two halves and was discarded. His arm ached with pain. The Summoner growled dully and looked away for a second.
Without being frightened or losing his head, he swung his short sword at the unprotected leg, right at the calf. There was a cry of pain mixed with a howl of hatred. Before the summer man, who had fallen to one knee, could react, little Theon had thrust his sword into his throat.
Droplets of blood splattered across his face. Theon, breathing convulsively, pulled the blade from the corpse and stood up, looking around. There was no need to leave his uncle....
- Theon!
He turned around and saw Victarion approaching in his armour and kraken mask. The elder Greyjoy quickly covered the distance between them and looked back at his nephew, noticing the drops of blood on the boy's face.
- You walked away from me,' Victarion said accusingly, "If you had died here, Baelon would have had three hides on me," but there was no emotion in his voice.
Walking beside Victarion, a stout, long-legged ironborn looked round at the mad Summoner who had attacked Theon.
- Dead, dead. Boy, is that you him? - Nut the Barber asked.
- 'I did,' Theon admitted, 'it was an accident. I don't know how I bumped into him.
- You're a good lad. What did you think of your first kill?
It was empty inside. It wasn't his first kill. But instead of little bullet holes in his body, he left a whole gash in his throat.
- Wanting to fill his stomach with food.
Nuth laughed, and Victarion looked at his nephew strangely, taking off his mask.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
-Look what a funny bird,' Eirik Longtooth pointed to a multi-coloured, long-beaked and not insignificant-sized parrot. It was one of the old pirates who had taught him many tricks along the way.
To the people of the Iron Islands, a parrot is a funny little beast, but to Theon it is a familiar animal.
- Rumour has it that the Summoners can teach these birds to speak like Maester's crows,' Eirik continued. - What do you think it tastes like, Theon?
- I don't think it tastes good. Better let the bird go,' Greyjoy advised.
-Echo, no. I haven't tasted the local birds yet, so what if it tastes good? - He grinned, revealing two long front teeth. Reasons for his nickname. But he was a respected ironborn, and had been on sea voyages with Victarion for a long time.
-Wait,' Theon stopped Eirik. - I'll take the bird for myself.
Eirik grumbled, but Theon held out his hand with a pair of gilded beads. Longtooth grinned and accepted the offering, conceding the parrot to Greyjoy:
-Hold that beak, but it's not worth it, it's not worth it! - said Eirik, trying on the gilded beads.
-Perhaps you could teach it to talk? - Theon grinned, stroking the parrot. As if sensing it, the parrot took a couple of long strides with its clawed paws and moved closer to the universal, fearing Eirik's carnivorous gaze. Clever bird.
-He waved his hand, looking at the black-skinned slaves being brought onto the deck and the iron guards accompanying them.
- All right, lad, I'll go and have some fun with the young fools and see what else I can trade.
Eirik left, and Theon continued to stand stroking his parrot.
The bound slaves were walking past, beaten, deprived of their homes and even their clothes. He looked at them with an indifferent gaze. No pity, no sense of squeamishness, nothing. In two years the sight of slaves had become commonplace to him.
'All that's left to do is poke a fork in my eye and put on a black patch. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!' - Theon sneered, still smelling the ash from the burnt huts in his mouth.
The first raid had been a telling one. Theon had almost been killed, but for taking that risk, Greyjoy had been rewarded with a cloak of colourful feathers from his uncle and a curved dagger with a smooth handle.
Along with that, the beads Greyjoy exchanged for a parrot.
It wasn't much, but it wasn't a rich settlement. Just a savage tribe that had picked up a few civilised things from their more technologically advanced brethren on the largest island, Hualano.
- Your father will be pleased with you, Theon,' said Victarion, who was the last on deck, accompanied by a dozen men, 'but don't you dare take another step away from me.
Greyjoy had only to bow his head conciliatorily.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'
They travelled around the Summer Isles for several more weeks, pillaging mostly small villages. Theon stayed close to Victarion at all times, keeping Greyjoy away from the battles.
After looting to the point where the holds were completely full, Victarion sent his small fleet of a couple dozen rooks and galleys towards the Free Cities.
No longer to pillage, but to trade. Trade in slaves. Their route took them to Volantis, one of the heiresses of Old Valyria.
But before they reached distant Volantis, they stopped briefly in Lys.
They sold some of their slaves and stocked up on provisions ahead of time. They had been sailing from Pike for several months now, and supplies, even replenished from raids, were running low.
The southern seas here were much warmer, but no less dangerous. Several times they had been caught in sea storms, but had come out of them without any losses.
The Drowned God clearly favours us, one of the travelling priests who had gone with Victarion told him.
The outline of a huge city appeared in the distance as they approached Volantis.
Located at the mouth of the Roina River, Volantis had once been a simple border outpost, but now it had grown into a medieval metropolis and claimed the title of heir to Valyria.
Divided in two by the Long Bridge, a monstrous structure, the city boasted tall, stone houses with colourful tiles, elaborate ornaments on the walls, endless inns and fountains, half of which appeared to be neglected and overgrown.
The aristocrats here are so arrogant that they have separated their private quarters by a high Black Wall and mingle only among themselves. Some noble families still honour the ancient dragon-gods of dead Valyria, but many have long believed in R'glor, a mysterious god from the far east.
In honour of this, a huge temple was built in Volantis, dedicated to the Lord of Light. The largest in the world.
Volantis must have been a shithole to the Valyrians, but now this shithole is claiming Valyrian heritage.
It's ironic.
-W-W-W-Ahead of the g-town! -In front of the g-town! -In front of the g-town! - screamed the parrot in a guttural voice. The Ironborn only squawked, but said nothing. They were used to it.
Theon wasn't kidding about being able to teach a parrot to speak. When the bird said its first word, Eirik laughed hard.
-Talking bird, the Grey King's guts in my mouth, talking bird,‖ he laughed loudly, and the others echoed him. Crows could talk too, but they couldn't say more than a single word, unlike the parrot, which could speak whole sentences.
Theon stepped onto the city's stone tiles as he entered the harbour and docked. The noise of the city - the eastern bazaars, the crowds, and the sound of the sea surf - immediately began to pound in his ears. Seagulls sang their mad song, swarming over the hundred ships in the harbour.
He followed Victarion and watched him interact with the local slave traders, selling slaves to them and getting to know them personally. Perhaps these acquaintances would help him market his goods in the future.
The merchants sparkled with irony, secretly sneering at Theon. Being well aware of this, he was forced to ignore such things, trying to ask serious questions, causing some to change their behaviour to more acceptable ones. Victarion, the squadron commander, never realised that the slave traders were making fun of his nephew.
Children were not taken seriously in this world, even though they matured more quickly mentally. He had to be patient and wait until Theon was on par with his brothers.
So he walked around the city for a few days, but Victarion quickly sold all the slaves, and after receiving a tidy sum, set a course for home to the Iron Islands.
His first sea voyage proved successful. He was able to gain some respect among the Ironborn, get his loot, and even got a parrot. Not a bad start.
But Theon doubted it would last. Life likes to throw up unexpected surprises. It took another month and a half to get back and all those days he worried in anticipation of trouble.
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