Chapter 243 - Action Before Dawn

"You are accused of attempting to murder the Queen Mother," the High Sparrow said. "No matter how high your reputation, the law demands your head."

Barristan Selmy said nothing.

"But I have been thinking about something." The High Sparrow's voice was unhurried. "This kingdom is at war. Dragons circle outside the walls. Wildfire is buried beneath the streets. The common folk are starving. Who sits on the Iron Throne has become the lesser concern."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I need you. Or more precisely, I need the Horse Lord behind you. To deliver King's Landing."

Barristan Selmy held the High Sparrow's gaze.

"King's Landing is sealed. Even if I were willing to help, there is no way out of this city to carry word to Khal Drogo."

"The Great Sept of Baelor still has two ravens hidden away. The Gold Cloaks are hunting them down in a frenzy, but they dare not set foot in the Sept."

"I can get those ravens out. The message needs to come from you. Written to Daenerys Targaryen on Dragonstone."

"What should I write?"

"Agree on a date." The High Sparrow said. "Two days from now. You must ensure the forces outside the city are ready."

"When that day comes, the Faith Militant strikes the Gold Cloaks and Lannister soldiers from within. The Warrior's Sons will march out from the Great Sept of Baelor. The Poor Fellows will rise simultaneously in Flea Bottom and on Iron Street. You hit from outside, we push from within."

"Khal Drogo is set on taking King's Landing," Barristan Selmy said. "No gate can withstand dragonflame."

The High Sparrow gave a soft laugh. "Then why has he not attacked? His dragons fly very high. He is very clever. He knows the scorpions can bring his dragons down. There are only three left in the world, after all."

"The Warrior's Sons will destroy the scorpions on the walls and see his young dragons safely through. My people are already working on the wildfire. All you need to do is write the letter and make sure those outside the walls wait for the appointed day."

Barristan Selmy: "But even with the Faith Militant's help, the wildfire is still unresolved. The Lannisters intend to leave Khal Drogo nothing but ash and ruin."

The High Sparrow was quiet for a moment. "The wildfire. I will handle it."

He led Barristan Selmy into the study where he conducted his daily affairs.

The room was austere to the point of severity. An oak table. Two hard chairs. A shelf of scripture scrolls thick with dust in the corner. A copper oil lamp on the stand by the window, its wick already burnt down to a black nub.

Several opened letters lay spread across the table. The ink bottle stood uncapped. The air held the stale, close smell of old ink.

The High Sparrow settled behind the table, the hem of his grey robe brushing the chair legs.

He picked up a quill and slid a piece of parchment across to Barristan Selmy.

"Cersei had me restore the Faith Militant. She thought I would help her against Margaery Tyrell. She was bold enough to demand the gods serve her ends."

"By the Seven, when she spoke there was no reverence in her eyes. Only calculation."

"She buried wildfire beneath this city. She stands accused of five grave crimes. Everything she has done is proof that she should not sit on that seat, and even less deserves to live in a city under the Seven's protection."

Barristan Selmy reached out and took the quill.

He wrote a short message. The content was spare: the appointed night was 2 days away, the signal would be 3 fire arrows loosed into the sky, and there were allies waiting inside the walls. He read it over once, then folded the paper.

The High Sparrow took it and glanced at it.

"The ravens go out in the dead of night." He passed the letter along. "By then men are exhausted and horses spent. The guards patrolling the walls can barely keep their eyes open. No one will turn their head to notice a black bird's shadow."

Lancel stood on the far side of the table. He reached out and took the letter.

"High Septon, we are aiding heathens who have invaded Westeros."

"When Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms, he was no follower of the Seven either. He converted for the sake of rule." The High Sparrow said it with quiet certainty. "Whoever rules the Seven Kingdoms will need the Faith of the Seven. The Horse Lord is no exception."

"And Daenerys Targaryen is a follower of the Seven."

Barristan Selmy glanced sidelong at the High Sparrow.

He knew Khal Drogo did not follow the Seven. That Dothraki Horse Lord put his faith in the Lord of Light.

The High Sparrow caught the look. His gaze settled on Barristan Selmy's face for a moment, then moved away.

Barristan Selmy and the High Sparrow sat across that copper oil lamp and talked deep into the night.

The wick had been trimmed twice. The flame guttered and dimmed, was coaxed back to life, guttered again, throwing its unsteady halo between the two men.

They spoke of Duskendale. Of the Tourney at Harrenhal. Of old friends who had died in Robert's Rebellion.

Later, when the night watchman's clappers outside had struck the third watch, the High Sparrow let the conversation lapse and pushed his cold cup aside.

"Ser," he said, a faint weariness in his voice now, "you should sleep."

Barristan Selmy drew his gaze back from the candle flame and shook his head.

"The older you get, the less sleep you need."

"I do not enjoy sleeping. When I close my eyes, I cannot be certain they will open again. At my age, I fear that one night I will simply not wake up."

The High Sparrow did not answer. He only looked at Barristan Selmy, his expression quiet and gentle. He said nothing. He understood everything.

The door cracked open.

Lancel slipped through, snowflakes dusting the hem of his robe, cheeks flushed raw from the cold, his breath carrying the chill of outside with it.

He crossed quickly to the table. "High Septon. The ravens have been sent."

The High Sparrow nodded.

"Take men and raid the Alchemists' Guild Hall," he told Lancel. "Bring back every alchemist you find. I need to know exactly where the wildfire is buried, and how much."

Lancel asked nothing. He bowed, turned, and went.

His footsteps were quick and light, gone around the corner of the corridor.

Barristan Selmy rose.

The High Sparrow gestured to the brother at the door, who returned the sword. The scabbard still held warmth from where the man had pressed it against his chest. Barristan Selmy took it and buckled it at his waist.

He followed Lancel out without a word.

The darkness before dawn is the deepest kind, black as ink dropped into water.

The Faith Militant's footsteps were swallowed whole by the heavy snow. The company moved swiftly and without sound along the back alleys behind the Sept, and in that thickest darkness before the sky began to change, they closed around the gates of the Alchemists' Guild from all sides.

The fight was far shorter than anyone expected. The few Gold Cloaks left on watch had no warning at all. They were pinned to the ground before they could clear their swords.

By the time the first grey-blue light of morning crept up over the eastern rooftops, the Alchemists' Guild had fallen entirely into the hands of the Faith Militant.

The Warrior's Sons moved the alchemists swiftly to the Great Sept of Baelor.

➤ Next: Explosion on the Street of Silent Sisters