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The arrival of the woolly mammoths threw the docks into chaos. Giant beasts trumpeted and giants cursed at the top of their lungs.
Tormund had already ordered massive pens built to house the mammoths. The horses were kept separate.
Hundreds of captured pirates were herded into the open ground by Red Hall warriors, stripped naked, searched for anything valuable, then the higher-ranking ones were pulled aside and locked up separately for ransom.
The surrendered southern soldiers were given stale bread and hot vegetable stew. That was enough to make them grateful. Their weapons had already been taken, so there was little chance of trouble for now.
Still, they kept the two groups apart. After all, the queen and the little princess they had once served were being held in a tower not far away.
Lynn was led into the wooden hall called the Cod Hall and seated in the high seat that had once belonged to Carter Pyke.
He ate fresh-baked white bread and hot roast seal meat, washed down with creamy seafood chowder and the Night's Watch's own strong ale—the brothers hadn't had time to take it all with them.
Harma and her cavalry filled every other seat in the hall. The clatter of plate armor and the sound of men eating and laughing made the place feel alive again.
The good food eased the exhaustion of days and nights on the march. Lynn drained the last of his ale, then watched the dragon beside him.
Weeping Blood was facing a live salmon that still flopped on the table. It was the first time the dragon had eaten something alive—and something from the sea.
Lynn was just starting to worry about fish bones when Weeping Blood blasted the salmon with a short jet of dragonfire, charring it halfway. Then the dragon grabbed the tail, flicked it high into the air, snapped its neck forward, and caught the whole fish in its mouth, swallowing it in one smooth motion.
The cavalrymen watching roared with approval. Weeping Blood didn't even screech at them.
Lynn doubted any dragon in history had ever shared a hall and a meal so calmly with ordinary men.
The Three-Eyed Crow had accidentally done the world a favor.
A soldier came in and reported that Stannis's Hand, Davos Seaworth, Lord of the Rainwood, was demanding an audience with the king.
Lynn had planned to deal with the prisoners in the morning, but if the man was this eager, he might as well hear what he had to say.
Moments later a plain-looking man with brown hair and brown eyes was brought in. He looked to be in his mid-forties, lean and weathered, with a thick graying beard. He wore a salt-stained green cloak that had seen better days and smelled of the sea. Underneath was a simple brown tunic and trousers that matched his eyes and hair.
He walked between the two long tables packed with cavalry, eyes flicking over the armor and sigils the men still wore—trying to figure out which of Stannis's lords had been killed or captured.
Finally his gaze passed over the blood-red dragon and settled on the young king seated in the high seat.
Davos thought the king's face and pale armor were striking.
But the dragon was even more so.
"Most noble king," the Hand of Stannis said, bowing low. "Davos Seaworth of the Rainwood offers you his most sincere greetings."
Lynn knew little about the man. At first glance he looked more like a lifelong sailor than any southern lord.
"Southerners usually kneel when they meet a king," Harma growled from her seat.
"My lord, you may have the wrong idea about southerners," Davos answered calmly. "Even the lowest peasant is not required to kneel before a king."
Harma had only been speaking for the sake of it. She muttered something under her breath about not being anyone's "lord" and went back to tearing into her roast seal meat.
With no one else immediately useful at his side, Lynn spoke himself.
"Lord Seaworth. You come in the middle of the night. Do you have some request? Or have my warriors failed in their hospitality?"
"Not at all, Your Grace," Davos replied. "Your warriors have been far kinder than the stories claim. The quarters and food they provided are more than adequate."
He paused, then tested the waters.
"As for requests… I have none for myself. But Princess Shireen has a fool called Patchface—his face is tattooed in red and green checkerboard by the Volantenes. He is almost the only friend the poor child has."
"This simple-minded fool has a habit of saying whatever comes into his head. He offended one of your captains and was thrown into the pigsty. Princess Shireen has been crying for him ever since. I beg Your Grace to show mercy and let the two of them be together again."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"The fool sounds like he's had a hard time, but why call Stannis's daughter a poor child? Because she's my prisoner?"
"No, Your Grace," Davos said quickly. "The treatment you have given her is more than generous. Even the strictest court official would find no fault with it."
He laid on the flattery first, then continued.
"I call her a poor child because she suffered a terrible sickness when she was small. It scarred half her face. Because of it she has almost no friends. Patchface has been her only source of joy for years. Please understand, Your Grace."
Lynn knew exactly what the man was doing. Davos hadn't come at midnight just to ask about a fool. He was fishing for information. The fleet had been taken completely by surprise, so Davos knew nothing about the battle. He was trying to piece it together from the armor and sigils in the hall and the surrendered soldiers outside.
He just didn't dare ask directly, so he used Shireen as an excuse to probe Lynn's limits.
Lynn saw right through it. He didn't see any reason to hide the truth anyway. The Lord of the Rainwood was being overly cautious.
He called over Tormund's eldest son, Doregg, and asked about Patchface.
Doregg grinned.
"You mean the idiot with the checkerboard face? He started singing sea songs at the Great Walrus and pissed him off. So we tossed him in the stone shed the crows used to keep their pigs. Shame the pigs all went on the ships with the crows—he'll be cold sleeping alone tonight."
Lynn shook his head, half amused.
"Have him brought out, cleaned up, and sent to Seal Tower."
Seal Tower was where Queen Selyse, Princess Shireen, and the queen's ladies and maids were being held. Most of those ladies were wives of Stannis's lords.
Doregg's eyes went wide.
"My father gave strict orders that no man is to go near Seal Tower. He put spearwives on guard. He said it was your command, Your Grace."
Tormund had handled it properly. Lynn nodded, satisfied.
Then he turned his gaze back to Davos.