Limpick didn't answer right away. He thinned out the bird's wings a little more, held it up to look at it, then kept carving.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Marwyn stood up and brushed the dust off his robe. "Fair enough. We're not leaving tomorrow, so take your time and let me know when you've decided."
He walked away. Limpick stayed on the steps, still carving the wooden bird. His eyes were on the wood, but his mind was elsewhere.
He had waited three days just to hear that offer.
But he couldn't accept too quickly. He had learned back in Riverrun—if something came too easy, people got suspicious. You had to hesitate, think it over, make them believe you'd wrestled with the decision.
He finished carving the bird, turned it over in his palm, and studied it. It wasn't great—one wing bigger than the other, tail a little crooked—but it was passable. He slipped the wooden bird into his shirt, stood up, and went to bed.
Early the next morning, Limpick wandered around the castle.
Most of Marwyn's group had gone out to preach in more distant villages. Only two people remained in Harrenhal: Marwyn himself and a skinny girl of fifteen or sixteen with freckles across her face. She wore a faded red robe and was squatting in front of the altar, feeding wood into the fire basin while muttering something under her breath.
Limpick walked past the doorway, pretending to just be passing by.
The girl looked up at him for a moment, said nothing, then went back to tending the fire. Limpick stopped and glanced into the basin. The flames burned strong, licking the edges of the iron bowl and lighting the girl's face a warm red.
"You believe in this?" Limpick asked.
The girl looked up again. "Of course I do. The Lord of Light is the one true god. He created the world, the sun, and fire itself. Without him, the world would be nothing but darkness."
Limpick nodded and stayed quiet. His gaze moved from the fire basin to the rest of the altar—simple stacked stones holding the basin, with a few items laid out beside it. A copper bowl filled with some kind of oil that smelled like lamp oil. An iron tong for handling hot coals. And a cloth bundle, bulging with whatever was inside.
At the edge of the bundle, a sliver of black was showing.
Limpick's eyes lingered on that black edge for just a second before moving away. He didn't stare. He turned and walked off, but his heart was beating faster now.
It was a stone. Black, smooth, with sharp angles that caught the light. He had seen it before—back in Riverrun, foreign merchants at the docks sold strange things. One of them had shown a black stone and called it "dragonglass," saying it was forged by dragonflame and could ward off evil spirits and White Walkers. The man wanted ten gold dragons for it, and no one bought it. But Limpick remembered exactly what it looked like—jet black, glassy, sharp-edged.
Marwyn's bundle contained dragonglass.
He went back to his room, closed the door, and sat down on the pile of rags. His heart was still racing. He took a few deep breaths to calm it.
One percent.
That's what the system had said. If he could get that piece of dragonglass and let Ember or Plume absorb it, it would push their evolution progress up by a full one percent.
One percent was huge. Ember had jumped from 3.7% to 41.5% only because it drained the remains of two actual dragons—Vhagar and Caraxes, beasts that had lain at the bottom of the Gods Eye for over a century. That was an insane stroke of luck, not something that happened every day. Normally, Ember had only gained 3.7% after hours underground in Harrenhal. Plume had taken days of hunting just to go from 0.0001% to 0.0002%.
One percent. From a single stone. That was worth several days of Ember draining the underground bones or months of Plume hunting.
Limpick sat there thinking it through. He couldn't steal it. There were seven or eight of them. Even though most were gone now, they could return at any time. Getting caught would be the end. He couldn't rob them either—he was just a skinny eighteen-year-old with a rusty dagger.
He needed them to give it to him willingly.
How?
By joining them.
Limpick stood up, paced the room a few times, then sat back down. He had seen the Lord of Light's people take in children back in Riverrun, but they usually took little kids—eight, nine, maybe ten years old. Not an eighteen-year-old "adult" like him. Marwyn calling him a child was just politeness, an attempt to recruit. If he really wanted to join, he needed to show sincerity.
What sincerity could he offer?
He looked down at himself—a penniless pauper with nothing. The only thing he had to give was himself: hard work, obedience, no trouble. But maybe… there was something else.
Harrenhal.
Marwyn's group hadn't come here just to preach. Limpick had noticed it—the scarred man always took time to wander the castle on his own, studying the carvings, the blackened stones, the collapsed towers. There was a certain light in his eyes when he did—not firelight, but something else. Limpick had seen that look on the docks in Riverrun, on merchants when they spotted something valuable.
Marwyn had come to Harrenhal looking for something.
Limpick didn't know what it was, but he knew one thing: he had lived here nearly a month. He knew every corner of this castle better than anyone.
That was his bargaining chip.
He stood up and walked toward the altar. The girl was still feeding the fire. Marwyn had returned from somewhere and was standing in front of the altar, holding the cloth bundle.
Limpick stopped at the doorway.
Marwyn looked up and smiled. "Made up your mind?"
Limpick nodded. "I'll go with you."
Marwyn studied him, firelight flickering across his scarred face. "You sure?"
"Yeah," Limpick said. "I've got nothing here anyway. With you I get food and a place to sleep. Better than staying alone."
Marwyn nodded but said nothing. He set the bundle on the altar and walked over, extending his hand.
"Then welcome. The Lord of Light accepts everyone—poor, rich, sinner, saint. In the flames, all men are equal."
Limpick shook his hand. Marwyn's grip was bony and rough with thick calluses, but warm.
"But I have one condition," Limpick said.
Marwyn's eyebrow rose.
"I know this castle really well," Limpick continued. "I've lived here almost a month. I've been in every corner. You people… didn't come to Harrenhal just to preach, did you?"
Marwyn looked at him. His right eye narrowed slightly, while the left one stayed wide and red, impossible to read.
"I've seen you wandering around," Limpick said. "You're looking for something. I don't know what it is, but if you tell me, I can help you find it. I know Harrenhal."
There was a moment of silence. Then Marwyn laughed, louder this time, the sound echoing through the empty room. "Smart boy," he said. "You're a lot sharper than you look."
He turned, picked up the cloth bundle from the altar, untied the cord, and pulled out a stone.