"Where is everyone?" Percy said.
He was walking next to Areo Hotah through the Shadow City, the settlement that had grown around Dorne's capitol. The name was correct in some ways, misleading in others. The shadow of Sunspear's first towering wall hung over buildings made from brick, wood, mud, cloth, and whatever else had been found to cobble together. There was a stink to this place. Not just the stench of sewage, but the smells of sweat and people living too close together.
The inaccurate part of the name was the city half. It was a town, really. Much bigger than Wylmouth but half the size of the stories Dyanna wove about Essos, or Kingslanding and Oldtown. More importantly, no one was outside. It was just Percy, Areo, and dust walking the streets.
"The heat keeps them away." The Norvoshi guardsman had a deep voice that he used slowly. His cadence reminded Percy of a cyclops. "The Shadow City is different from settlements in the north. Here, night serves as our day."
All kinds of lanterns and candles were hung everywhere, particularly on street corners. When they burned with animal fat, you wouldn't be blind outside even in the darkest part of the night. The buildings got taller and closer together as Percy and Areo approached the first gate.
It was made of thick and heavy iron. In Dorne, that was easier to come by than wood, not to mention stronger. It sat open for Percy and Areo to pass, the guard captain getting respectful nods from the men posted on either side.
The city changed beyond the gate. The buildings didn't look cobbled together. They got taller and more complete, built together to make maximum use of a limited space. Inside the walls, endless expansion wasn't an option. Instead, people built up. Some of the buildings were four floors tall, cloth used for canopies rather than as makeshift roofs. When Percy looked down the winding alleys running off the main path, he saw rows of bazaars sure to be busy once the sun set. Even the smell changed. Instead of a stink, an almost equally unpleasant smell of tar and salt mingled in his nose. They were above the ocean now, walking amongst the homes of merchants and the tradesmen affluent enough to buy from them. Soon, they arrived at another gate.
After passing it, the Shadow City changed again. The buildings spread out once more. Instead of being a way to fit more houses, it was to accommodate bigger ones. The road was paved with cobblestones. Many of the homes, built of hard clay with sharp angles and straight walls, were as big as suburban houses on Earth. Some of them had ferns and similar plants growing off the sides. The nicer the house, the more greenery decorating its walls. We can afford this, it said. Can you?
Percy thought all that water would've been more useful in the first section of the city. But hey, what did he know.
"We're almost there," Areo said. "The Sandship lies just ahead."
"Sandship?"
"House Martell's seat of power. The keep that can be seen from afar."
The last wall was the one of the castle itself. Its parapets were segmented for archers. Men walked the walls, the sun shining on the tips of their spears. Now that was a hot job.
The Sandship was three times bigger than Castle Wyl. Instead of being a flat cube, the roof rose to different heights in each part. The towers went the highest. Some areas had bronze domes not much shorter than the towers. Other parts of the roof were flat, with slanted portions running between the high and low points, all of it coming together to form an absolute patchwork. Not that the keep wasn't beautiful. It was, in a rugged way. Percy liked how un-uniform it was. It lent character.
Entering the keep was easy with Areo Hotah leading him. As soon as they got into shady hallways, Percy sighed contentedly.
"The heat is… difficult."
Percy looked at Areo. He hadn't expected the man to say something first. It didn't happen before now.
"I thought Wylmouth was hot," Percy said. "It felt that way at the time. Now, thinking about it makes it seem like a winter wonderland."
"It was the same when I arrived from Norvos with my lady, the mother of the little princess. Dornish life did not agree with my lady, yet here I remain. Prince Doran is a man worth serving." Areo's face shifted. He wasn't very expressive to start with, so the difference only showed in his eyebrows as they pressed closer together. "Prince Oberyn's raven spoke of losses. How did Ser Wells pass?"
There were a few answers Percy could've given. He died to bandits. He died to an arrow. He died in an ambush to a member of a vassal house sworn to the same lord.
"He died protecting Arianne," Percy said. "Same as the men who followed him."
"I see." Areo smiled.
The Sandship was as complicated on the inside as Percy expected from the outside. Just like the roof, its hallways were a patchwork that went every which way. There were dozens of crossroads, sometimes between passages as narrow as an alley in the Shadow City with a hallway as broad as a road. There weren't many windows on the lower levels, just vents to let in fresh air. It would be a long time before Percy could get anywhere without a guide.
He kept waiting for them to arrive at some kind of throne room. Instead, they ended up in a bedroom.
It reeked of wealth. The last part of the walk had included five flights of stairs, which explained how this room's private balcony could look over the walls. Straight ahead and to the left were the ocean, while looking right let you watch the Shadow City. That would be a sight worth seeing at night, when the candles and lanterns they'd passed came alive one at a time.
The bed had four posters, with silken curtains that could be drawn for privacy. While it was big enough to suit two people, only one side was rumpled from use. There was a chair midway between the bed and the balcony. That was where Doran Martell sat.
Arianne's father was in his late forties. He looked older, with hair that was graying and a hunch to his shoulders that would've fit a man with a decade more years under his belt. Any looks Doran once had were in the process of being stripped by age and not even his clothes, a loose garb of golden silk, could mask it.
Areo Hotah went to stand behind his master, tall and potent as Doran's pale shadow.
Percy wasn't sure what to do, so he walked in front of Doran. He stayed far enough back to be unthreatening. Then he waited.
Doran's skin was wrinkled but his eyes weren't dull. "You do not kneel."
"Sorry, I've never been good with that. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to, either. I haven't had too many run-ins with nobles before."
Percy had only kneeled for gods, and even then just sometimes.
Doran gripped the armrests of his chair. The way that he dressed, his hands were the only skin visible below the neckline. "I had considered you might be a foreign agent. A spy. Or worse, an assassin."
Past tense. "So you don't now?"
"If you were either of those, you would have kneeled. Your manners would be perfect to ensure you entered my trust. The way you address me is not the work of a trained man."
Percy scratched the back of his head. Innocence proven by rudeness. That was a first.
"What should I be doing?"
"That depends," Doran said. "You've come to Sunspear. My brother wasn't sure that you would. You're here for something. Payment for what you've done, a place at court, a title. I offer nothing yet. Let me hear your request."
"I'm here because Arianne is here."
"Ask for her hand and you'll be thrown out."
Percy laughed. "Yeah, I'm about sixty years too young for you to consider me."
Areo Hotah scowled. Doran acted like he hadn't heard Percy. "Do you mean to enter my daughter's service?"
"I already have."
"Do you believe yourself capable of it? There is more to that life than skill at arms, great as yours are said to be. Captain."
"Yes, prince?"
"Tell him your oath."
Areo beat his chest. "Serve. Obey. Protect."
"Ordered for a reason. The first is the most important, the last the least. What of you, Perseus Jackson, stranger in my halls? Will you serve the princess no matter what becomes of her, even if she loses everything? Will you obey her if she orders a babe to be slain in its cradle?"
"I'd tell her no and then ask why she wanted that, so I can explain to her why she's wrong."
"Then you've failed."
"Arianne knows exactly what to expect from me. I didn't hide anything. She still agreed."
Doran shifted in his seat. Doing so hurt him. He bit back the grunt that tried to get out, hiding it well, just not well enough to fool Percy's eyes.
"My daughter is young. I love her desperately. There is much she doesn't understand, and many things she forgets. Not all she does I can abide by. My brother wrote that you bested him."
Areo Hotah looked at his prince in surprise. His hand moved closer to his axe as he looked at Percy, not quite so relaxed anymore.
"He is one of the finest warriors Dorne has," Doran said. "Were his words true?"
"Do you think Oberyn would lie about that?" Percy asked.
"I do not. How many rounds did you fight?"
"One."
"Then I must consider you are a better warrior than him. You've sworn an oath I heard not, to a girl too young to know the world, admitting openly that you'll do as you wish. Why would I let a man such as you into my nest?"
"You said it already."
"I have? Enlighten me."
"You love your daughter," Percy said. "If I'm at her side, she'll achieve everything she wants. Unless that's a problem."
Doran narrowed his eyes. "What do you speak of?"
"She wants to rule Dorne."
"As she will, once I've passed."
"That's not what she thinks."
Percy could see the moment when Doran froze. A salty breeze blew in from the balcony, swaying his golden robes.
"Explain."
"She found a letter to her brother. It said he'd sit where you do. A few years pass, and you try to send her off with old men. Is it surprising that she ran?"
Doran didn't answer quickly. He breathed in and out, looking to have frozen.
"She would not wish for you to tell me that," he said. "Why? For what have you broken her confidence?"
"Because I believed you," Percy said. "You said you love her and I think you're telling the truth. Maybe I'm not obeying, but I'm serving her. My way."
He knew a thing or two about rough relationships with parents. How many demigods had been screwed up by the same thing? Percy had seen it from both sides, hearing how helpless Hermes sounded when he talked about Luke. So often, things could've been solved with a little more honesty.
Doran was no god. Just an aging man who could barely move, no matter how much he dressed up. There weren't Fates looking over his shoulder to make sure he acted the right way. He could embrace Arianne any time he wanted. Percy wasn't sure why Doran created distance in the first place, but he'd seen the effects, and it was doing more harm than good.
"What does she say about me?" Doran's voice sounded the most human Percy had heard it.
"Not much that's good," Percy said. "But she says it angrily, so she hasn't given up hope yet. She doesn't want to hate you. Give her a reason not to."
"I cannot," Doran said. "Secrets must be kept. A skill Arianne has never mastered. Loose truths do more damage than the most fiery of grudges."
"With all due respect, Prince Doran, you weren't there to see her," Percy said. "Arianne helped me bury the men she brought with her. Each one. When we talked that night the weight wasn't lost on her. She's not the same girl who left Sunspear."
"People do not change quickly."
"I think it's the opposite," Percy said. "When change comes, it's usually fast. Especially when someone's young."
"Says one who appears to be the same age as her."
"I'm young too. That's how I know it's true."
Doran was silent. There was a table next to him with salted meats, peppers in some sort of sauce, and cheeses that carried a sharp scent. He reached out, grasping one of the peppers and bringing it to his mouth. Even his chewing was done slowly.
"Out," Doran said. "I must think."
Percy still didn't kneel, but he put a hand on his chest and did a little quarter-bow. It was about as respectful as he got. Thinking about what he'd said was all he could ask from the prince. With time, he'd see the same thing in Arianne that Percy had, if he was as sharp as Percy hoped he was.
"Take him to a room for guests, captain," Doran said. "Further arrangements can be made later."
Areo bowed his head. "As you say."
As they left, Doran rose from his chair. He couldn't hold back a grunt of pain. He walked slowly to his balcony, collapsing his weight against the balustrade. Propped on the elbows, Doran looked over his home, eyes unfocused as if looking at something much further away.
"Your behavior will need correction," Areo said.
The two of them were walking the halls together again, this time in a new direction.
"You won't be the first to try," Percy said. Chiron and Annabeth came to mind. "So far, no one's had much luck."
"Your behavior will reflect upon the little princess. I refuse to see her demeaned."
Percy shrugged, not hopeful about Areo's chances. He was who he was. Arianne knew that. If someone earned his respect, he'd go through hell for them. But there was no chance in Hades that he would kneel every man who introduced himself with a flashy name and started talking about how many centuries his family had ruled over yada yada valley or so-and-so mountain. He'd rather turn into a hermit and hide in the woods than live like that.
Percy's room was everything he could've hoped for, meaning it had a bed and a window that looked over the ocean. It was in one of the tallest towers, on the eastern side of the Sandship, which placed it near the tip of the peninsula. After setting his sword on the table and changing from his ragged clothes into something nicer brought by a servant, Percy went to the window and leaned against the wall, looking out. Each time a wave broke against the rocks he felt a little more at-home.
Percy held hand out. He'd opened the window in order to smell the salt air. Although he couldn't see it, he could tell each crashing wave kicked a foamy spray into the air. He focused on the spray. His hand reached through the window, his fingers flexing.
He found something to grip. Only for a second before he lost it, like he was trying to scale a climbing wall coated with soap. It was enough to lift a portion of a broken wave. Percy watched the hot sun strike flying droplets as they were carried much higher than they were meant to reach.
"Oh my!"
Percy looked back and saw a servant standing in the doorway. The woman was touching her face, looking out the window.
"I've never seen a wave so large!" she said. A moment later she realized that she was standing slightly inside his room, abruptly straightening her back. "I meant no disrespecting entering without saying, ser, the door was open and I was about to call out, I was just distracted when I saw— The lady is calling for you. That's the message I was bid to bring."
"Arianne wants to see me?" Percy asked.
"She was there, yes, ser, but she's not the one who called me in," said the servant. "It was her cousin. Lady Tyene gave the order, and asked that you please hurry. She says that it's urgent."