"My old friend," Salladhor Saan said, his voice a smooth, persuasive purr, "I sincerely advise you not to return to that hellhole. The political tides in Myr are high, and they will drown you all. Take your firegrass. Salladhor will see you and your men to a safer place, a quiet island where you can enjoy your newfound wealth. The price is high this year. This cargo will make you all rich men."
"Thank you for your kindness, Salladhor," Handsome replied with a weary smile. "You love your purse, but I still love my oath. Besides, Greybeard is your friend, too."
"I knew Greybeard when you were still a boy cleaning his boots," the pirate prince retorted. "But it is no use. I cannot watch you sail to your death. The situation in Myr is murky. Magister Karasso is very likely to lose this game, and to lose it disastrously."
"I am going to Myr," Handsome said, his voice firm.
Salladhor sighed. "Very well. I admire the stubbornness of you Northmen. But a man cannot always be stubborn. Could you at least wait for us on the coast? If things go badly, we will need a way out."
A cunning smile spread across the pirate's face. "The ever-loyal Salladhor will, of course, require another reward for this service. A small fee. Another tenth of the firegrass."
"Done," Handsome gritted out.
"Very well," Salladhor agreed. "But I will not wait long. We will arrive in Myr tonight. I cannot risk exposing my ship by waiting until morning."
As night fell, the *Mead* slipped quietly into a small, unremarkable harbor near the city of Myr. From here, a secret tunnel, dug by smugglers generations ago, led directly into the city's outer slums. Handsome led a small assault team of his most skilled men—including Dick the Fletch, Longspear, and Gendry—into the darkness. The rest of the company remained on the ship.
"You two should stay," Handsome said to Dick and Gendry. One was too old, the other too young.
"My soul died in the Kingswood, more than ten years ago," Dick the Fletch said, his voice raspy with memory. "I died the day the Brotherhood was wiped out. I have always regretted that I was not there. The gods have granted me many extra years. I am content." He brandished his yew longbow with a grim laugh.
"The company needs a young man's strength," Gendry said, hefting his warhammer. Handsome, his face still bandaged from the fight with the gladiator, could only nod.
The tunnel was narrow and low, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast. It was torture for a man of Gendry's size. They emerged into a dead-end alley in the city's outer slums, the sounds of chaos echoing through the streets.
"Death to Karasso!" a crowd chanted nearby. "Karasso is dead!"
The Magister had fallen. His wealth and status had vanished in an instant. The city watch, their torches a river of fire in the night, were already busy confiscating his property—docks, warehouses, and slaves. When a great man falls, the jackals come to feast on his corpse.
Handsome and his men concealed the wolf emblems on their chests and moved through the streets, trying to make sense of the chaos. Myr was full of mercenaries and adventurers; a small band of armed men would not attract much attention.
"The situation is worse than we feared," Handsome whispered. "Karasso's enemies struck before the firegrass could arrive. They knew he was vulnerable." And Greybeard? He was responsible for the Magister's personal safety. His fate was likely sealed as well.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar of "Kill! Kill!" erupted from a nearby street. A dozen blood-soaked men, their armor battered and their faces grim, were fighting their way toward the city gates. It was Greybeard's men. They were being pursued by the city watch and another band of sellswords.
"The Wolf Pack is here!" Handsome roared, and his men charged into the fray. Dick the Fletch, his movements as smooth as silk, nocked an arrow and let it fly. A pursuing guardsman fell, a feathered shaft sprouting from his throat. With each pull of his bowstring, another man fell. His longbow outranged the crossbows of the city watch, and he was the finest archer in the Seven Kingdoms.
"The Wolf Pack is here!" Gendry yelled, donning his iron mask. He was a storm of steel and fury. He charged into the fight, his warhammer a blur, and began the bloody work of rescuing his brothers.
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