The Mystery Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

Costayne and Lord Shawney were here before us. Besides, they’re
lords.”
     
    Egg made a face. “Rebel lords.”
     
    Dunk frowned down at him. “What
do you mean?”
     
    “They were for the Black Dragon.
Well, Lord Shawney was, and Lord Costayne’s father. Aemon and I used to fight
the battle on Maester Melaquin’s green table with painted soldiers and little
banners. Costayne’s arms quarter a silver chalice on black with a black rose on
gold. That banner was on the left of Daemon’s host. Shawney was with Bittersteel
on the right, and almost died of his wounds.”
     
    “Old dead history. They’re here
now, aren’t they? So they bent the knee, and King Daeron gave them pardon.”
     
    “Yes, but—”
     
    Dunk pinched the boy’s lips shut.
“Hold your tongue.”
     
    Egg held his tongue.
     
    No sooner had the last boatload
of Shawney men pushed off than Lord and Lady Smallwood turned up at the landing
with their own tail, so they must needs wait again.
     
    The fellowship of the hedge had
not survived the night, it was plain to see. Ser Glendon kept his own company,
prickly and sullen. Kyle the Cat judged that it would be midday before they
were allowed to board the ferry, so he detached himself from the others to try
to ingratiate himself with Lord Smallwood, with whom he had some slight acquaintance.
Ser Maynard spent his time gossiping with the innkeep.
     
    “Stay well away from that one,”
Dunk warned Egg. There was something about Plumm that troubled him. “He could
be a robber knight, for all we know.”
     
    The warning only seemed to make
Ser Maynard more interesting to Egg. “I never knew a robber knight. Do you
think he means to rob the dragon’s egg?”
     
    “Lord Butterwell will have the
egg well guarded, I’m sure.” Dunk scratched the midge bites on his neck. “Do
you think he might display it at the feast? I’d like to get a look at one.”
     
    “I’d show you mine, ser, but it’s
at Summerhall.”
     
    “Yours? Your dragon’s egg?” Dunk frowned down at the boy, wondering if this was some jape. “Where did it
come from?”
     
    “From a dragon, ser. They put it
in my cradle.”
     
    “Do you want a clout in the ear?
There are no dragons.”
     
    “No, but there are eggs. The last
dragon left a clutch of five, and they have more on Dragonstone, old ones from
before the Dance. My brothers all have them too. Aerion’s looks as though it’s
made of gold and silver, with veins of fire running through it. Mine is white
and green, all swirly.”
     
    “Your dragon’s egg.” They put
it in his cradle. Dunk was so used to Egg that sometimes he forgot Aegon
was a prince. Of course they’d put a dragon egg inside his cradle. “Well, see that you don’t go mentioning this egg where anyone is like to hear.”
     
    “I’m not stupid, ser.” Egg
lowered his voice. “Someday the dragons will return. My brother Daeron’s
dreamed of it, and King Aerys read it in a prophecy. Maybe it will be my egg
that hatches. That would be splendid.”
     
    “Would it?” Dunk had his doubts.
     
    Not Egg. “Aemon and I used to
pretend that our eggs would be the ones to hatch. If they did, we could fly
through the sky on dragonback, like the first Aegon and his sisters.” “Aye, and
if all the other knights in the realm should die, I’d be the Lord Commander of
the Kingsguard. If these eggs are so bloody precious, why is Lord Butterwell
giving his away?”
     
    “To show the realm how rich he
is?”
     
    “I suppose.” Dunk scratched his
neck again and glanced over at Ser Glendon Ball, who was tightening the cinches
on his saddle as he waited for the ferry. That horse will never serve. Ser Glendon’s mount was a sway-backed stot, undersized and old. “What do you
know about his sire? Why did they call him Fireball?”
     
    “For his hot head and red hair.
Ser Quentyn Ball was the master-at-arms at the Red Keep. He taught my father
and my uncles how to fight. The Great