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Theon

           NooneknewofhisletterbutRobbStark;theywerenofools,toentrusttheirsecretstoabird.Still,LordBalonwasnofooleither.Hemightwellhaveguessedwhyhissonwascominghomeatlonglast,andactedaccordingly.

           Thethoughtdidnotpleasehim.Hisfather’swarwaslongdone,andlost.ThiswasTheon’shourhisplan,hisglory,andintimehiscrown.Yetifthelongshipsarehosting...

           Itmightbeonlyacaution,nowthathethoughtonit.Adefensivemove,lestthewarspilloutacrossthesea.Oldmenwerecautiousbynature.Hisfatherwasoldnow,andsotoohisuncleVictarion,whocommandedtheIronFleet.HisuncleEuronwasadifferentsong,tobesure,buttheSilencedidnotseemtobeinport.It’sallforthegood,Theontoldhimself.Thisway,Ishallbeabletostrikeallthemorequickly.

           AstheMyrahammadeherwaylandward,Theonpacedthedeckrestlessly,scanningtheshore.HehadnotthoughttofindLordBalonhimselfatquayside,butsurelyhisfatherwouldhavesentsomeonetomeethim.SylasSourmouththesteward,LordBotley,perhapsevenDagmerCleftjaw.ItwouldbegoodtolookonDagmer’shideousoldfaceagain.Itwasnotasthoughtheyhadnowordofhisarrival.RobbhadsentravensfromRiverrun,andwhenthey’dfoundnolongshipatSeagard,JasonMallisterhadsenthisownbirdstoPyke,supposingthatRobb’swerelost.

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