Chapter 46

Tiresias stood in the corridor, outside of Stannis' solar. He rubbed the corner of his mouth, certain that a hint of dinner remained there. He wasn't sure. He hardly tasted anything, eating only out of necessity. His conversation with the Red Woman had put any thought of lunch out of his head. Wandering back to the castle, he slowly came to feel again. To think as well. Just one question...

How the hell did she know? I haven't called myself Clark for years. I don't even think it. Nobody knows that name. I didn't tell anyone, not even the farmer and his wife…how did she know?

The answer was simple and it was one he had to keep repeating until he accepted it.

The same way she knew Ygritte's words. How she repeated them to Jon Snow at Castle Black…

He had to be satisfied with that. To know exactly how…to understand Melisandre's power would set him upon the path of religious fanatism. To serve the Lord of Light. He had no desire for such a venture.

The solar door opened and he jumped slightly. Recovering in time, he stood to attention as Stannis Baratheon came to the doorframe. They looked at each other for a beat, before Stannis stood aside.

"Come in," he ordered. Preparing himself, Tiresias entered, giving a nod on instinct to the two guards on duty. They didn't respond. Stannis shut the door promptly and strode past him to the desk, leaving Tiresias time to survey the room.

It wasn't the council room with the table of Westeros. Where Aegon and his sisters planned their conquest. Where Daenerys planned hers. This was the orderly and sad room of a reluctant and dutiful lord. Over a port island with little agriculture or culture. It wasn't Storm's End. Just a punishment for an unloved brother.

However, when Stannis reached the desk and met his eyes, his sympathy vanished. It wouldn't do here. Upon the Lord's gesture, he moved to the chair in front of the desk and sat.

Stannis remained standing. "May I fetch you something to drink?"

Tiresias swallowed dryly. "I would appreciate some water, my Lord. Thank you."

His eyes traveled to the hearth as Stannis poured some water from a pitcher. To the blazing fire there. But there was no smell of ash and spice in the room or near it. He was curious whether or not Melisandre would be present at this meeting. But she wasn't and he didn't know if he was disappointed. On one hand, she accepted the supernatural more easily than Stannis did.

On the other hand…she knew his name. And he had to be Tiresias completely for this. He had to tread carefully.

Stannis returned with two cups, having poured one for himself. Taking one, Tiresias waited, not sure if the man wished to toast. However, the Lord of Dragonstone traveled back to this desk, leaving Tiresias to sip his water.

"I'm told by Maester Cressen that you met my daughter today," Stannis stated as he sat down. "That you gave her a gift."

Tiresias nodded. "I did. She's a delightful child, my Lord. Very well-read. Very keen."

"Do you know how my daughter received her scars, Tiresias?"

Knowing that he was going to have to lie much more tonight, Tiresias decided on the truth for now.

"Greyscale…so I've been told."

"Were you also told how she contracted the disease?"

He placed his cup on his armrest, balancing it before leaning back.

"A gift from a strange traveler," he said quietly, before allowing himself a small lie. "Not sure what the gift was."

Stannis' eyes were a calm storm. "You will give Lord Stark my thanks for the gift and his thoughtfulness for my daughter. You will also inform him that any future gifts to Lady Shireen will be given to me first. So that we may verify their safety. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, my Lord," Tiresias said succinctly. "Apologies. We won't take such liberties in the future."

There was no indication whether or not Stannis accepted his answer. He refused to respond all together, meeting his eyes and holding them. Tiresias found himself unable to blink. Or unwilling. Out of all the staring contests he held with various people in Westeros, lords or otherwise, Stannis' unblinking gaze seemed the most natural, the least calculated. Tiresias told himself not to engage but he couldn't help it. They regarded each other as the fire crackled.

Finally Stannis spoke. "Do you know why you're here, Tiresias?"

"I was invited, my Lord," he said, very careful not to sound insolent. With those words, it was hard not to.

However, his words didn't seem to anger Stannis. The man merely sipped his water, setting it on the desk before leaning back and continuing.

"You told Lord Stark to seek out dragonglass from me. For a trade. You brought to his attention to the deposits in the beach caves of this island."

"So your Red Woman told you, my Lord."

Stannis didn't even raise his eyebrows. "Do you deny it?"

Tiresias shook his head. "No. I merely wonder why you requested my presence as opposed to writing a letter to Lord Stark with any inquiries you may have. Winterfell is about to import dry food stores from the Reach. Beforehand Lord Stark reached out to the farmers and gathered their opinions on such matters. I don't believe that Lord Tyrell will insist the Northern farmers come south and justify the trade."

Immediately, he regretted his choice to bring Mace Tyrell into the conversation. He had forgotten the Fat Flower's actions during the Rebellion, or rather his inaction. Sieging Storm's End, feasting outside the walls to drive the starving men inside mad. Stannis barely held the castle together before Davos rescued them.

Not that Stannis needed a reminder. He saw the Lord's eyes smolder, but his face remained calm.

"You're not a Northern farmer," he said. "You didn't advise Lord Stark on the gaps in the harvest."

He picked up a piece of parchment from his desk.

"Crops I understand, Tiresias. We all need food, but dragonglass…" His eyes still regarded the parchment. "What was the reason you advised Lord Stark for the trade? Who's received your forged obsidian?"

Tiresias knew he was expecting a certain answer and he gave it.

"The hill tribes," he said quietly. "They value it highly and trade well for it. Furs, mounts and such."

With that, Stannis lifted his eyes from the parchment and offered it to him.

"In anticipation of your visit, Maester Cressen went over his records and surmised the total amount of obsidian we've mined and exported to Winterfell. Do you know how much it is?"

He truly didn't. On the eve of his departure, he was tempted to calculate it himself, but there was no time. Oberyn was insistent on leaving soon. And he didn't wish to spend his final evening in Winterfell, with the Starks, with Mal, hunched over records.

Still wishing to know, Tiresias took the parchment and scanned the amounts. The total was at the bottom and it was an effort not to react. Twenty crates every two months for several years…it seemed right. He had no reason to doubt Cressen's arithmetic.

Tiresias looked up to see Stannis gauging his reaction. "That's quite a bit."

"And all for the hill tribes of the North?" the Lord stated, not bothering to hide his doubt. "You can truly justify that amount for so few?"

"There's more people in those tribes than you realize, my Lord." Tiresias gently placed the parchment back on the desk. "And it's not just the hills. Sure, Clan Norrey and Flint are near the mountains. But the Wulls are by the Bay of Ice. You also have the Burleys, the Harclays, Liddles, Knotts. About forty tribes altogether. You won't find them on maps. But they're there. In the high valleys and mountain meadows, they reside."

It was an effort not to just recite that. Tiresias had never been to a clan stronghold. All the preceded knowledge was what he could remember from tomes, soldiers' gossip and passing knowledge from Sorcha. He hoped he could go one day. Before the winter snows came.

Under the nose of Roose Bolton…fat chance while he's alive…

He halted that thought. He couldn't afford such musing. Not now. Not under the focus of Stannis Baratheon.

"Fascinating topic," he remarked. "But Lord Stark is not trading the dragonglass to any one of the forty mountain clans. You didn't advise him to import it for that."

"Is that a question, my Lord?"

"No, Tiresias. This is a question: why does Lord Stark want dragonglass? Why has he imported so much all these years, following your advice to do so?"

More to buy time than any actual thirst, Tiresias picked up his water and sipped. As he drank, he settled and thought over the story Lord Stark and he agreed on upon. His last day in Winterfell scrutinizing an insane strategy…

It went quickly. Almost too quickly for him. He wanted to spend more time digesting such a drastic measure. To ensure they were prepared for the potential fallout.

But there wasn't any more time. He scanned the notes he jotted down before looking to the Warden.

"Are you sure, Lord Stark?"

He almost smiled grimly. "It was your idea."

"Doesn't make it a good one. This could stir some real shit. You need to be prepared."

"If there's any trouble, we can fortify the Neck before it's too late."

"Then you'll be besieged from both north and south."

"The usual circumstances for a Northern war." That was a light jape. It passed quickly as Lord Stark fixed his eyes on him. "I trust you, Tiresias. If you believe this will restart the trade and bring more dragonglass to the North…then say what you must."

He stood and sighed. "Besides…the truth will reach the south at some point. Might as well be on our schedule."

Tiresias set his cup down and looked Stannis in the eyes.

"The North needs dragonglass because the White Walkers are back."

It was a testament to Stannis' fortitude that he tempered his reaction. Whatever answer he was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He remained seated, his face calm, but Tiresias saw the surprise in his eyes and the flaring of his nostrils. He needed to steer this conversation before it was too late.

"Or rather the Free Folk believe that they're back."

Stannis found his voice again. "The Free Folk? You mean the wildlings beyond the Wall?"

"They prefer Free Folk to wildling," Tiresias corrected gently. "But yes. They believe that the ancient monsters of ice have returned and are bearing down on them in the Lands of Always Winter."

Melisandre must not have seen that in her flames. Or perhaps she simply didn't direct her gaze past Winterfell when she was asked about the mysterious foreign librarian. He doubted any southern lord paid any mind to the barbarians beyond the Wall. Stannis certainly didn't. He saw that clearly enough.

Whatever the reason, the Fire Priestess obviously hadn't told Stannis of the White Walkers, the Night King and the gathering Army of the Dead. He allowed himself to breathe a little easier. That fear evaporated, but he didn't relax entirely. Stannis was still absorbing that last sentence and was sitting in silence.

Taking advantage of such a rarity, he continued with the story.

"Over the past several years, my Lord, the Night's Watch and northernmost houses have reported an increase of Free Folk that had snuck past the Wall and attempted to migrate south. These numbers were scattershot, insignificant and only after an audit about six years ago, did Lord Stark notice the increase. But there was no explanation for it. No information about the migrants were kept. At the time, I was just brought on as a librarian to Winterfell and I assisted Maester Luwin in poring over the archives. To find any clue we could. Any reasons."

He shrugged. "We didn't find anything. Just the number of Free Folk slain. We factored in that men tend to enjoy bragging about their kills and may have exaggerated the numbers. But even considering that inflation, it was still significant. At least, Lord Stark seemed to think so. I was still a stranger to the North.

"Though it was not a threat and the numbers could be dealt with by the North, he decided to investigate. I accompanied him on a visit to Castle Black and House Karstark and House Umber. My business was separate. I was merely inspecting tomes. But still I kept my ears open. During his visit, he ordered the men to not instantly kill the Free Folk they encountered. But to instead question them and discover what motivated them past the Wall."

Allowing himself a sigh, Tiresias gave a grim grin.

"What Lord Stark discovered…I can only say that it surprised him as much as it surprised you this evening. Though I may presume too much."

Stannis did not return his grin.

"The White Walkers…" The words dripped from him slowly. "The increased invasion of these barbarians from beyond the Wall is due to ancient monsters of ice?"

Tiresias shrugged. "That's what they said to us. That's what they believe."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Lord Stannis…Lord Stark could convey this far better than I could, but something is happening beyond the Wall. I've talked to a few of the Free Folk myself. Not many others speak the Old Tongue…what I saw and what I heard…they're desperate. And they feel an urgent need to flee."

Lord Stannis sipped his water. "Flee from them? The White Walkers?"

"The White Walkers?" Tiresias timed a small laugh as he shook his head. "No, no. More likely it's just tribal conflicts coming to a head. The Free Folk…their tribes are as complex as many of the kingdoms you Westerosi have here. Perhaps a warring tribe from the far north is creating havoc in the Land of Always Winter. The Thenns are probable suspects…"

"The Thenns?"

"A violent tribe from the farthest North, the Frostfangs. Cannibal tribe. Very disciplined though."

Curbing the flippancy from his tone, he continued.

"But even with the tribes that are more Northern than wildling, the animosity that exists between them and the Northerners is great. Too much blood spilt over too many years. Knowing this, Lord Stark had to find something to bring them to the table. So to speak. I suggested dragonglass."

Stannis raised his eyebrows. "You suggested it?"

"I did. I've spoken with those interacted with the Free Folk before. Before I came to Westeros. Sometimes traders went to Hardhome for furs. When they returned to Lorath, they said that the tribe there was obsessed with obsidian. Upon inquiry, we discovered that this obsession was shared with other tribes across the Far North. Apparently, according to legend, it's an effective weapon against the White Walkers and the demons they command.

"Whatever the reason, we had to start somewhere. And if we were to get a few tribes to stop attacking the rangers of the Night's Watch and start talking to us, we needed something that would catch their eye. Still their hand."

He sipped his water and leaned back, determined to appear comfortable. "I remembered that Dragonstone had dragonglass deposits on the beach under the volcano. I suggested Lord Stark write to you."

"And how did you know of these deposits?"

"A tome that detailed this island. I did some light reading when I worked for a velvet merchant in Lorath."

Stannis didn't even blink. "You found a tome concerning Dragonstone in the Free Cities?"

Tiresias nodded. "Aye. There's a bit of a fascination with Dragonstone back in Essos. It was the westernmost of the Valyrian Empire, no?"

Without waiting for an answer, he plunged ahead. "And so, that's that. The great mystery. I apologize. It was also my suggestion that Lord Stark conceal the true nature of the request. Until he could present satisfactory results from the migration. And prove his instinct correct."

"Why is Lord Stark even entertaining the idea of allowing wildlings past the Wall in the first place?" Stannis asked. No anger was in his voice. Just pure pragmatism. "The Wall is there for a reason. Man the forts and repel the invaders. Leave the wildings to their own fates. Their primitive squabbles are not the concern of Westeros."

"All but three of the castles on the Wall are fit to be used at the moment," Tiresias responded, hoping his voice was even. "And even if every castle was manned, it will not be enough. The Free Folk will find their way in the North. They've been doing it for years."

He inhaled through his nose.

"Lord Stark calculated the risk," he continued calmly. "Either the North marches on the Wall and repels the Free Folk or he allows and oversees their passage. We account for their numbers, separate the tribes, give hostages to various houses to prevent skirmishes. There's been success to this strategy so far."

"So far?"

"Aye, House Mormont has hosted a number of Free Folk women from beyond the Wall for a number of years. They work on Bear Island. A few have even married into the community there. Tensions? Aye, but they've been scarce and overall, it's been a harmonious relationship."

"How many wildling women has House Mormont taken in?"

Tiresias took a few seconds to settle on a good number. One he could bullshit.

"About fifty. Fifty-five, I believe."

Stannis stared at him. "Fifty-five wildling women is a number a small Northern house could ward, guard and account for. How many wildlings is Lord Stark considering to allow past the Wall?"

"I'm afraid I don't know," Tiresias said. One hundred thousand was not a number he believed Stannis would accept. Then again, would King's Landing even take a census? The North was huge and could hide whole armies. Afterall, Stannis confirmed his suspicion tonight. The southern lords weren't even aware of the hill tribe populations.

So he lied again. "Perhaps ten thousand?"

"Ten thousand wildlings," Stannis repeated. "And how many fighting men make up that number?"

"We don't know. I doubt it's more than half."

He made to lean forward automatically, but stopped himself in an instant.

You're supposed to be relaxed. Nonchalant, damn it.

The correction was in vain. He could tell that Stannis noticed the fidget. Nevertheless, he continued.

"My Lord, the strategy is in a delicate stage at the moment. Lord Stark is trying to mitigate a thousand years of conflict in order to save lives. Not just those of the Free Folk but the Northerners as well. If they fight, it would be a bloodbath. Even if it's not massive battles that will decimate thousands, the conflict would drag on for years with soldiers at their posts on the Wall and only a skirmish every now in then to show for it. Meanwhile, the men Lord Stark conscripted would be away from their farms and their trades. The harvest will not be reaped. Food will not be stored. And when this long summer ends and winter comes, the survivors from the Wall will return home to face starvation. There'll be ruin in the North."

"And what of the ruin that will come with a wildling migration?" Stannis asked. His voice was still calm. Testing. "What will come of the farms and stores that are raided and pillaged? What of the small villages and hamlets away from the protection of castles and holdfasts? What of the women? How many of them will be stolen on a whim and ruined by the fancy of a wildling allowed to roam free?"

The fire popped loudly, but Stannis didn't blink. He still spoke quietly.

"Tell me, Tiresias Warrior Librarian, what guarantee does Lord Stark intend to give the North and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms that his leniency will not have disastrous consequences?"

They were fair questions. Tiresias couldn't help thinking so. As much as he knew the Free Folk were only people, he'd be a fool not to be anxious about the inevitable clashes between them and the Northerners as their unwilling hosts. Even if the alternative was a wight army of vast numbers.

But don't forget; it wasn't the Army of the Dead that tore Westeros apart. No, people did that just fine before the Wall came down…

"Lord Stannis, there are no guarantees," he stated softly. If Stannis wasn't riled, he refused to be as well. "Lord Stark won't offer them and he doesn't expect the migration to be bloodless. But as I said, he moves to mitigate. There will be hostages. Tribes will be divided into smaller sects. He'll arrange a few marriages among the tribe chieftains to the minor houses and bind them by blood. And all the while, with the support of his houses, the Northern forces will be alert and overseeing the limited number of refugees pasting through. They won't be stuck at the Wall, staring endlessly north at a white blanket of snow. They'll follow the Free Folk as they enter, are accounted for and proceed to their destination.

"And another thing, Lord Stannis…is that the North has the upperhand. The Free Folk are proud. And so, even with the enticement of dragonglass, if they're coming to the Wall and considering terms to pass and reside peacefully in the North, they're submitting themselves to Lord Stark's will. Whatever's happening in the Far North, whatever's driving them to the Wall, they're frightened and they want in. Lord Stark sees an opportunity. A rare one. One that not only puts the North at an advantage with these people. But one that could be the end of the animosity between them and the North."

He shrugged. "Or at least the beginning of an end to it."

Stannis' eyes were quite impassive. "You say you've spoken directly to these wildlings yourself? Those that wish to pass and submit themselves to the North?"

Grateful for the opportunity to speak somewhat truthfully, Tiresias nodded.

"Aye, my Lord, I have. To a few."

"What makes them believe that the White Walkers are back?"

Tiresias hesitated and he wasn't sure if that was part of the performance. Without a screaming wight in their presence, most Westerosi wouldn't accept that the White Walkers even exist. But Stannis' eyes, though piercing, seemed almost open.

What else did the Red Woman tell you, Stannis? What more will you ask of her?

"According to the few I've spoken with...a massive group of warriors is conducting raids on villages and other Free Folk that have banded together," he said finally. "Most of the fighters are vicious and dumb. They make no demands. They make no peace. They just screech their battle cry and slaughter. But their commanders, their leaders, are quiet. Still strong. I'm told their eyes shine very blue. And their skin is pale. The cold doesn't bother them."

He risked a small smile. "I assure you, Lord Stannis, a pale man with a preference for cold is quite common beyond the Wall. Especially in the Lands of Always Winter."

Stannis didn't share his smile and he didn't allow the silence to permeate. Now that the shock had passed. The openness in his eyes was gone as well. He was done with his questions.

"I shall have to inform the King of Lord Stark's actions with the Free Folk."

Tiresias nodded. "That's fair enough. Lord Stark expects questions from the south, but he is acting in the best service for the Seven Kingdoms. He trusts you will be fair in your wording to the Crown."

"He should have been open with the Crown from the start." Stannis cut across him. "With this secrecy, he has jeopardized his standing as Warden. I don't even see his friendship with King Robert helping him much."

"The secrecy was needed." Tiresias leaned forward. "Lord Stark has had to work for years to get the Northern houses prepared for a migration. It's not been easy. Had he merely announced it loudly at the beginning, he would have faced stiff resistance and would have been forced to take the violent route in dealing with the Free Folk. He's had to work slowly to ingrain the idea in the minds of his vassals. To slowly dull their bloodthirst."

He sighed. "I fully expect you to report your King. But on behalf of Lord Stark, who asks this, would you please consider keeping this report strictly to His Majesty? If this leaks before Lord Stark is done properly preparing the Northern Lords, it will cause the war we're hoping to avoid."

Without acquiescing or rejecting his request, Stannis fixed him a brief stare before lowering his head and picking up his quill. The dismissal was evident. Tiresias stood, but he didn't leave.

"I don't know if I'm what you expected, Lord Stannis. I only hope I've presented my Lord's case well enough."

Stannis didn't say anything. Tiresias cleared his throat.

"So what of the dragonglass trade? Will it be resumed?"

That paused the quill, but Stannis didn't raise his head.

"I haven't come to a decision yet on the matter."

"Will it depend on the King's response?"

On that, Stannis did look up, with very piercing eyes. Tiresias stood steady.

"I haven't come to a decision yet on the matter," he repeated.

"I see," Tiresias said. He hoped not too quickly. The dismissal was again clear on Stannis' face, but he couldn't move and continued to meet those piercing eyes.

"Do you have something else you wish to say?" Stannis spoke brusquely, interrupting the stare.

Just say no. It's not important. It doesn't matter. Don't ask.

Tiresias cleared his throat. "How did the Small Council react to the death of Ser Gregor Clegane?"

He wanted to believe it was just a practical question. To inquire how the death of a famous, or infamous, knight was received politically by the court. Whether he, little more than a servant, would face consequences.

He wanted to believe that truly…but he recognized the ego beneath the question. It wasn't well-hidden.

Stannis looked at him. There was an odd gleam in his eye. He almost seemed disappointed.

"It was discussed briefly," he stated curtly. "We had other matters to attend."

"I see," Tiresias murmured. "And what was decided?"

"Nothing was decided. The trial was legitimate. Ser Gregor died and you lived."

He dipped his quill and lowered it. "You amused the King greatly. That wasn't during the Council meeting."

That last sentence was tinged with disgust, against the renewed scratching of the quill. With no more urge to pry, Tiresias inclined his head and exited the solar. He felt the eyes of the guards follow him as he left the corridor. The remaining light through the windows was violet in the dusk.

Enough time to send a raven. With Stannis' decision…

He sighed openly as he walked. Though he didn't know the full fallout of what he incurred here, he left the solar with little hope that Stannis would revive the deal. The man was stickler for rules. True, there was no law that said the Free Folk must be kept north of the Wall. Lord Stark was well within his rights to open the gates and allow them passage.

But just because it wasn't illegal, didn't mean that it would be accepted. The Free Folk were beyond the Wall. And most, if not all, Westerosi believed they should remain there. A savage land for a savage people…

There was one factor in his favor though. The animosity towards the Free Folk was strongest in the North. The rest of Westeros may not like them and regard them as barbarians, but the North was the sole kingdom fighting the wildling hordes for thousands of years. Only with Aegon's Conquest were the other kingdoms pulled into the conflict. And that was only three hundred years ago. There were still plenty of southerners who regarded the Northerners as barbarians themselves, as tree-worshipping boors.

Still, a horde of wildlings being allowed passage through the Wall was going to raise concerns. Even the fudged number of ten thousand with half them being fighters…there was no way that he could give Stannis the honest number of refugees they expected. He only hoped the North really could hide most of them.

That honestly didn't concern him. He remembered the looks and mannerisms of the tribes in the Vale. The ones that accompanied Tyrion. The Free Folk were civilized compared to that lot and could definitely pass off as Northerners.

No, what really concerned him was the other detail he fudged in that conversation…

Turning Lord Stark's excursion to the Wall, to House Karstark and House Umber into an investigation of the wildling migrants messed up the timeline of what actually occurred. A fortnight before they departed, Lord Stark visited his bedside and revealed a shard of dragonglass. From the very first shipment.

It wouldn't stand under close scrutiny. But the timeline was muddled. Everything that occurred was in the span of six months. Would Stannis verify the dates visited with Lord Karstark and Lord Umber? With the Lord Commander Mormont? Would he even be able to? That tour was several years ago. And though the visit of a Warden was an occasion to be remembered, Lord Stark's presence in their holdfasts was far more casual than Lord Tywin's would be in Deep Den or the Golden Tooth.

But Lord Commander Mormont on the other hand…it wouldn't surprise him if he did keep the precise date noted. If Stannis checked with him…

Tiresias resisted the urge to lean against the wall and moan into his hands. He couldn't be seen doing so in this place and it wouldn't help. But as he continued to trudge back to his room, he did consider this silver lining. If Stannis took issue with anything he said, Lord Stark could denounce him and issue an official recounting of events, correcting any discrepancies noted by Stannis or any other member of the Small Council.

And they would believe Lord Stark over him. They'd have to.

I have no true name. Just a first name yes, but not a family name.

No family name put him outside the ranks of power in Westeros. And though he tried to use that obscurity effectively when he had it, its power was limited. More so now that he wasn't anonymous anymore. It didn't matter that he fell the Mountain. The only power he had was what Lord Stark gave him.

He thought about Varys and his riddle.

It's all a shadow on the wall. A trick…but if someone shines a light close enough, my shadow will be banished entirely.