Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [44]
Arya took a deep breath before she next spoke, for against her better judgment, she was about to reveal an important secret.
"Lady Alustriel is concerned about the disappearance of several of her couriers, who have set out for Quaervarr but never returned," said Arya.
Greyt looked at her blankly. "And what does that have to do with either of us?"
"My mission to Quaervarr," explained Arya, "is to investigate those disappearances."
He did not seem surprised in the least, a fact that made her wince.
"The North is a dangerous place," Greyt replied with a shrug. "The People of the Black Blood were a danger in the Moonwood, and who knows what might have replaced them in the last months? I can't guarantee safety, and neither can you."
"It's not that simple," Arya said.
"No?" Greyt asked as he sipped his wine.
"No," asserted Arya. "All the messengers had two things in common-all were young women, and all were alone."
There was a moment of silence in the study.
Then Greyt laughed, long and loud. When his mirth finally subsided, he managed to speak between deep chuckles.
"I'm sorry, Niece, but I can't say I'm surprised," he said. "I've said it before, and it holds true now. 'The road for a man, home for a woman.' I believe a bard from Westgate said that… Now, what was his name? Mayhap not."
Shocked, Arya felt irritation rise in her throat and had to clench her fist to avoid striking him. Her reputation for stubbornness and temper was not undeserved. She had cast off her responsibilities in Everlund, despite her father's wishes, because of just such a discussion. But losing her composure as a Knight in Silver simply would not do.
In the meantime, Greyt continued his mocking laughter. She could not help but feel it was partly at her expense. Soon enough, she could take it no longer. She wanted to say something to stop that laughter, and she spoke before her mind worked.
"Are the streets of Quaervarr even safe? Can you not protect your own people?"
"Niece, know that your safety is of top concern," Greyt added, seemingly at ease. "The attack upon your person last night will be investigated. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't put it past this-what did you say people called him? Walker?"
Arya suddenly felt cold. "The attack upon my person?" she said softly. "I never said I was attacked last night."
Greyt's eyebrow twitched but his smile was firm. "Unddreth must have reported it," he said dismissively. "I say, a Knight in Silver attacked in my own streets-"
"I haven't told anyone about last night," said Arya. "And I never mentioned Walker."
Greyt's smile slipped. The two were silent for a moment, Greyt staring at her with something that was not quite confusion. Then he stood, walked up, and loomed over her. Her anger gone, Arya trembled for a different reason entirely. Through discipline, she held her body firm, but she could do nothing about the emotion written in her eyes: fear.
She looked at Greyt for a long moment, and she saw nothing but cold, calculating anger in his face.
Then he moved, and Arya almost drew her sword. As though he did not see, Greyt continued his step to the sideboard and poured himself more wine.
"Are you sure I can't tempt you?" he asked, raising the glass. " 'Tis quite good."
"No," Arya said firmly.
"Pity." Greyt smiled a half grin but his eyes were smoldering. Then he shrugged. "Well, suit yourself." He went back to the chair and collapsed into the cushions. "I'm very tired, Niece, and feeling my age. You'll excuse me if I don't walk you out."
It was not a question.
Arya nodded, turned on her heel, and left the room as quickly as walking allowed. She could feel Greyt's eyes boring into her back the entire time.
As she left Greyt's study, Arya was not surprised to see Greyt's cruel-faced son leaning against the wall, bedecked in his white leather armor. She was not surprised that he had been listening.