GOT: The Great Khal — Chapter 151 - Brienne Wall-Slams Podrick

On the Kingsroad, two horses ambled northward, one in front and one behind.

Bronn rode in front, leather armor hanging open, the sun-darkened skin of his chest catching the light. One hand rested loose on the reins. The other tipped a waterskin to his mouth. He drank, then smacked his lips.

Podrick followed half a horse-length back, spine straight, both hands wrapped around the reins, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The horse he rode was one Drogo's men had pulled from the herd without much thought, nothing special, but it was calm and didn't buck. That was enough.

"Why did Khal Drogo let you go?" Bronn asked, not turning around.

Podrick reached into his coat and pulled out a fat leather pouch, holding it up. "He told me to go back to King's Landing and bring Shae back. Gave me coin for the road."

Bronn glanced back at the pouch. His eyes narrowed. That thing wasn't much smaller than the one on his own belt.

"He also told me to go to Last Hearth," Podrick added. "Rescue Sansa's little brother. Rickon Stark."

Podrick nodded, earnest. "A fine journey."

"Fine?" Bronn pulled the reins. His horse slowed, and Podrick drew level with him.

He turned and looked at the boy. His lean face said everything: are you out of your mind?

"I don't even know what the kid looks like. Round face? Square? What color's his hair? Does he cry or laugh? I don't know a damn thing about him."

"And Last Hearth — that's the far end of the North. Past the Last River, still days of riding. You know what the weather's like up there? Cold enough to freeze your cock off. I'm no northerner. The furthest north I've ever been is the Eyrie, and that's practically the south."

"You could wear more clothes," Podrick said.

Bronn stared at him for 2 full seconds. Then he laughed, a short, flat sound with no warmth in it at all.

"Wear more clothes. Right. Me, alone, riding across the entire Riverlands and the North. Then when I get there, I've got to figure out how to sneak into a castle, find a kid I've never met, get him out alive, and ride the whole way back."

He paused.

"You think I'm out delivering milk?"

Podrick pulled his neck in and kept his mouth shut.

"How about we swap," Bronn said. "You go north and find Rickon. I'll go to King's Landing and pick up Tyrion's Shae."

Podrick shook his head. "Khal Drogo told me to fetch Shae."

"Khal Drogo tells you to go and you just go?" Bronn snorted. "Obedient little thing, aren't you."

"He paid," Podrick said. "He paid you too."

Bronn snorted again. This time he didn't say anything. He nudged his horse forward and rode back to the front.

They rode on in silence. The walls of King's Landing crept up over the horizon.

"This is where we part," Bronn said. His tone had shifted, a shade more serious. "You go pick up your Lady Shae. I'll go find my Stark brat. Each to his own."

Podrick nodded. He hesitated, then said, "Be careful."

The corner of Bronn's mouth pulled sideways. Not quite a smile. "You too. King's Landing isn't much safer than the North."

Podrick took a breath, turned his horse, and rode toward the city gate.

He fell in behind a few grain merchants, head down, and slipped through with the crowd.

He stuck to the alleys, avoiding anywhere people gathered. Seven turns, eight bends, threading through narrow lanes, he was just about to cut into an even smaller passage when a hand shot out from behind and locked around his wrist. He was slammed into the wall, face-first, cheek grinding against rough stone.

A sword pressed against his throat.

Cold. Tight. The pressure was unmistakable against his skin. When he swallowed, he felt the edge drag lightly across his Adam's apple.

"Don't move." A woman's voice, low and hard.

Podrick went rigid. From the corner of his eye he could see the hand on the hilt, thick, knuckled, nails cut short. The grip was iron, nothing like a woman's strength. But the voice was a woman's.

"I ask. You answer," she said. "Cry out and I slit your throat."

Podrick nodded as fast as he could, the muscles in his face shaking.

"Where is Lady Sansa?" The voice was flat, controlled. "I followed Tyrion out of King's Landing that day. When I caught up, all I found was a field of corpses."

Podrick's throat worked. "We were captured. Khal Drogo's army hit Kevan Lannister's column. We were run down by — by dragons. My lord told me to protect Lady Sansa, and then... then we were all taken."

"Taken." She repeated it. "Taken where?"

"Storm's End."

"You came back alone. Why did they let you go?"

"Khal Drogo sent me back," Podrick said quickly. "He told me to come back and fetch someone."

"Fetch who?"

"Shae," Podrick said. "She's —"

"I know who she is." The voice cut him off. The dark-haired handmaid who had stood at Sansa Stark's side. She had seen her at King Joffrey's wedding.

The sword moved away.

Podrick turned around and sagged against the wall, dragging in air. The back of his shirt was soaked through with cold sweat.

The woman standing in front of him was tall, a full head taller than him, shoulders broad enough to blot him out entirely. She wore a knight's armor. Her hair was cropped short. Her eyes were cold and hard, like two whetstones.

"I am Brienne," she said. "I am looking for Lady Sansa. I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn Stark to protect her daughters."

She drove her sword back into its scabbard with a clean, practiced motion. "Why does Khal Drogo want you to fetch Shae?"

"Because Lord Tyrion is at Storm's End," Podrick said, stumbling over the words. "Shae... is his lover."

Brienne wasn't surprised. Tyrion's private life had been an open secret for years. "And Lady Sansa? How is she?"

"I don't know. She should be all right. Before Khal Drogo threw me in the dungeon, he had her put in good quarters."

"You rode out with the Hand of the King and came back alone." Her grey-blue eyes fixed on his face, her voice clipped and hard. "If anyone recognizes you, you'll be seized on the spot and thrown in the black cells."

Podrick's face went white.

Brienne stepped forward. The weight of her presence pressed in again, not hostility this time, but something that left no room for argument.

"I'll go find Shae. Tell me where she lives. I'll bring her out of the city. You stay here. Don't show your face. Don't talk to anyone."

Podrick rattled off the directions: through Flea Bottom, past the second fork, turn left, fifty paces on, a row of grey stone houses, the last one at the end.

Brienne listened. Then she let go of him. "Wait for me in the wasteland outside the Mud Gate before nightfall. Stay out of sight. Find somewhere to hide."

She turned and walked away. Her grey cloak swallowed her up, and then she was gone around the corner.

The alley went quiet. Somewhere in the distance, market hawkers called out their wares. A dog barked.

Podrick stared at the empty corner where she had vanished, his thoughts a tangled mess.

He didn't know if he could trust her. But he didn't have a choice.

He touched his throat. His fingertips were still cold from the blade.

➤ Next: Brienne — Face to Face