Dressed to Kill, Chapter 6 (ASOIAF FI)

The only thought going through Haren’s head could be summarized succinctly.

Temareh was fucking right. 

They crested one of the hills, and rather than the stilled waves of green they expected they found something that looked suspiciously like an infant town. Ringed by a wall straddling the line between natural and manmade as dense rows of trees surrounded it on three sides, the last protected by a river, it was reasonably-protected from the Dothraki, any charge or horseback crossing attempt greatly slowed by the terrain. Several clusters of trees rose tall, dense crowns flattening against an invisible wall - and he could see the glint of sunlight on metal between the leaves, hinting at archers and watchmen - they were likely already seen, then.

From his position he could also see several small copses, far more neatly ordered than what he was used to in any plant save for perhaps the vineyards of Meereen. Above the canopy of the outer wall, he could also glimpse several fields of some sort of grain, the stalks a yellow almost resembling lemons. The shapes of large men - too tall and broad to be Dothraki - walking between them as they tended to the crops, sickles cutting and limbs gathering by the armful.

Past them, on the other side of the settlement, he could see a dam-bridge connecting a pair of trees, their bark pale and shimmering in the noon sunlight even as their roots stretched into the water to support both a natural walkway and stem the water’s flow. On the other side of the river, a large patch of white, a herd of sheep grazing without an apparent shepherd to watch over them even as half-completed canoes and rafts were scattered along the bank.

Temareh walked up to him, standing at his side and gazing out onto the forming town in silence for a few seconds. “This is Ladon’s work, then?” He asked, if only to make sure. He expected an affirmation. 

“Indeed it is. And we shall see it from within as well,” She answered, a note of vindication glimmering in her eye. “I intend for you to come with me, as part of those who will meet with the spirit first. To give lesser offense, should he dislike our presence in his demesne.” She gestured at the town, a broad sweep of her arm in the settlement’s direction. “Myself. You, as the guide and head of the community. Adervara, as a willing sacrifice.”

He halted. “You intend to make a blood sacrifice?” To a spirit you claim serves the Great Shepherd? Remained unasked but hung heavily in the air. He consciously held back his hand from going to his belt, the mirror-shard knife reassuring against his side. His duty was to keep the Lhazareen refugees safe, and his loyalty was not to Temareh. 

The godswife shook her head. “She volunteered. A Lysene slave, I am given to understand - a beauty. She is willing to offer herself to Ladon, if it would better predispose him to us. I’ve no intention to see her dead,” Temareh reassured, the words ringing true to his ears. Haren forced himself to relax. “Come - she is already waiting for us at the camp.”

He gave a sharp nod, stepping past her, but his place was slow enough to let her catch up as she fell into step behind him as they returned to the campsite - eight Dothraki carriages, arranged in a semicircle, a campfire blazing merrily at the midpoint between the two arms. Seventy-six refugees, primarily Lhazareen but a few others as well. A Lysene slave who escaped the Dothraki by running off during a raid and hiding in a burned-out ruin of a hut; a Braavosi bravo, the swordsman having traveled to Qohor hoping to find a Valyrian blade only to find himself enslaved and gifted to the horsemen as tribute when they surrounded the city; a handful of others with similarly colorful stories.

Adervara joined them, and the godswife gave orders - if they were to not return, they were to elect a new leader from amongst themselves and head for Kosrak, never to return this far North. There were murmurings at the command, but no objections as the three of them departed for the settlement.

They once more crested the hill, walking towards the barrier of timber. The sounds of labor could be heard first, grain being threshed and wood being sawed. Haren’s nose picked up a scent as they approached, something faintly sour mixing with the stench of a rendering pit producing grease, albeit far tamer in intensity. Apprehension started to take hold as they came closer, sighting the thorns on the bark of the trees that served as the wall. As long as his index and as thick as his thumb, tapering into a point fit to skewer man and beast both.

A man emerged from the shadows ahead of them, stepping out into the sunlight. His first impression was height, for they were tall enough to glare eye-to-eye at a Dothraki on horseback while on their own two feet. The head set upon the broad torso was stern but at-ease, his beard, mustache, and hair woven into finger-thick braids, reaching down to past his shoulders. He was clad in a rough tunic extending to mid-thigh, pants reaching to his ankles, attired in fiber-reed rather than wool, his shoes woven bark. His bare arms were thick, covered in slabs of muscle and yet bore no scars, an arakh at his waist that seemed more like a dagger accounting for the wielder’s size rather than a sword for horseback.

“I have to wonder what led you to my door, after seeing what I did with the Dothraki.” The giant of a ‘man’ rumbled with crossed arms. Ladon’s borrowed voice lacked any reproach, the green glow of the spirit shining through the body’s eyes only showing even-handed curiosity.

Haren took a step back - the faint shimmer around the eyes he dismissed as a trick of the light, but the sudden glow they attained as Ladon spoke caused a spike of fear in his heart, but he did not yet run. Temareh stepped forward, falling to her knees and prostrating herself, Adervara following her lead. “Great spirit Ladon, servant of the Great Shepherd! We have come to seek your protection and guidance, lost lambs as we are. A handful less than four score of refugees saved and slaves freed by your actions, here to serve our Shepherd through you.” She remained prostrated, but one hand shifted to the side, presenting. “This one is Adervara, one of those you have saved. She wishes to offer herself to you, in any manner you desire, should it please you.”

Ladon’s head tilted fractionally to the side at the display, toxic green eyes locking onto Haren’s own and looking distinctly bemused. There was something almost like commiseration in the spirit’s gaze before he turned towards the kneeling pair. “I will not deny shelter to those who come to my home in good faith. However.” Haren twitched - the word and tone together usually heralded nothing good. “I claim no such title. I had not known of the Great Shepherd until I met his people. I simply arrived to this land when a Lhazareen maiden broke under a Dothraki raid and unwittingly became a vessel for me in her death. For that boon, and for the repugnancy of the Dothraki ways, I took revenge in her and her family’s name. If your god had a hand in my arrival, he did not see fit to make me aware of any such thing.”

As the only one of their group standing, he made a furtive glance towards the two women. Adervara seemed… Neither surprised nor disappointed. Temareh, meanwhile, seemingly processed Ladon’s answer for several long seconds before arriving at a conclusion. “A shepherd does not guide its flock by word alone, great spirit. You arrived in a time of need to a Lhazar, and you have aided its people. You have given them guidance and safety. You have done what a servant of the Great Shepherd would, and done nothing that one would not,” She declared, her tone fervent. More so than before, if anything.

“Believe as you see fit so long as it does not harm me or mine.” Ladon replied after a moment, massive shoulders rolling ponderously under the weight of his apathy. “As for you, Adervara, I understand your intent is to ply your skills to earn yourself a place of safety and comfort at my side. I have no objections to this, as it is done of your own free will and your form is plenty pleasing, however we will discuss the particulars of the arrangement later. Now, any who wish may enter and you can send word to the others as you please, simply be mindful of the resin that drips from these trees. A stuck foot can easily become an unpleasant meeting with the thorns.”

He glanced down, noting the faint glisten of the viscous liquid. Yes, he could imagine that - step wrong, and even if you tear yourself free… A bit too much force would just end with you stuck some steps away, or stumbling into a tree and impaling yourself. He forced his fear down, the spirit’s agreement without demands or threats helping his racing heart calm, and a mote of respect formed in its place. Such terrain would break a Dothraki charge.

Temareh moved first, rising to her feet and moving to follow in Ladon’s exact footsteps - a fine enough idea that Adervara and he both emulated, carefully advancing through the living wall. The persistent, gentle drip of the resin set him on edge but they made it to the other side fast enough, pausing at the sight that met them.

The men working the fields, chopping wood, picking glistening fruits off trees… they moved with eerie unison. That was the first thing that struck him - perhaps Ladon’s size had inured him to the idea of men larger than average, and so it took a moment to note how bulky they were, each and every one of them more than a match for a Dothraki. Still, there was something off-putting about the unity of movement, the labor carried out in such silence that he briefly believed them all mutes. The godswife and the former slave, meanwhile, seemed to be too focused on the giant leading them to notice.

“I will not mince my words. Every body and plant you see here is but an extension of me, working like organs in a body. To live here is to be surrounded by me at every hour.” Ladon explained, each and every man in sight nodding their heads as one to illustrate his harrowing declaration, “If the idea alone isn’t off-putting enough to drive you off, I invite all of you to spend the night here and make your decision whether to stay in the morning.”

Temareh paused, before bowing at the waist. “As you wish, great spirit. I shall depart and inform the lost lambs of the magnitude your presence has in this place.” She remained silent for several seconds, more than enough time to mount an objection, before turning and heading back to the camp at a near-jog, her steps hurried.

Haren gave Adervara a sidelong glance. “I thought she would want us returning with her,” He commented in a hushed tone, an effort at idle conversation to drown out the rising discomfort. He wanted to leave, but that would be both impolite after such an invitation and could likely wait - there was no guarantee everyone would accept to live here. Someone would need to guide them back to Kosrak.

“The only thing in her mind was sharing this ‘revelation’ with the faithful.” Ladon snorted, stance far more casual all of a sudden, “Would you like something to eat while we wait? I would rather wait for explanations and tours until everyone is here, assuming they won’t turn tail.”

Haren took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and locked his gaze with that of the giant, glowing green sockets briefly fixed with his own mud-brown eyes. “If it is offered freely, then I would be glad to accept,” He declared with as much bravery as he could muster.

Adervara let out a low chuckle. “Well, if he’s trying them I’d rather not be left out. My previous captors were rather monotonous in the meals I was provided.” She spoke, her voice a soft, lilting thing more at home in a high-class brothel than out here in the plains.

“It is freely given. I’m not the kind of spirit who tricks with implications and weasel words.” Ladon chuckled with a soft shake of his head as he guided them towards some manner of orchard, his… other bodies filling baskets with shimmering, lumpy fruits that were still recognizably apples. “I don’t know if the local spirits are constrained by laws on how they can behave, but I just have power, plain and simple. No arbitrary limits on what I can say and do beyond my personality and ability, much like a mortal.” 

One of the bodies offered him one of the larger fruits, and he accepted with a grateful nod that was more reflex than intent.

Slowly sliding his knife from his belt, he cut into it, a rough circle carved and impaled on the sharp mirror-shard blade. The skin was harder than what he expected, thicker as well, and the flesh was a shade of red paler than the outer layer instead of what he was used to. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite.

crunch

It was firm, just like the finest apples he had ever eaten before - hard enough to be satisfying to chew, yet soft enough to do so without inconvenience. It was filled with juice, and he had to desperately swallow it down lest the surprising volume dribble out of his mouth. It was sweet like no other fruit he had tasted before, just short of honey even if the undertone of apple was still recognizable. He chewed a handful of times, having to gulp down mouthfuls of the sweet liquid that his teeth pressed out of it, swallowing a moment later.

A moan that was downright indecent came from Adervara that had him startled, turning to her in surprise to see the woman devouring her own apple like a starving man might set upon the roasted leg of a sheep. He glanced down at his own snack, before looking back up at Ladon. “I think it’s good.”