I arrived at Sunspear, where they provided with a carriage and a guard, though I already had my own escort of knights from the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands. Questions of escort beca sowhat less pressing when I saw the people in the streets. The Dornish were mad. They were heads on spikes all across the city, and they looked like Western.
Before entering Sunspear proper we passed through the Water Gardens, the Martells' private sumr residence, which was still being prepared to receive the family of the Princes and Princesses of Dorne. Beyond it lay the Shadow City, which had grown up around Sunspear without any apparent plan. And there we were t with eyes full of hatred, people throwing stones at intervals. The mood of the population toward us and the Martells beca imdiately clear. We were despised and they wanted us dead. The Martells were loved. And then at last, we ca up against the castle itself. It rose above the city largely because of its towers. Within the city I was able to study them properly: two main towers. The Tower of the Sun, crowned by an enormous gilded crystal do, and the Tower of the Spear, from which another spire rose in the shape of a steel lance, adding to its height.
Prince Oberyn Martell, younger brother of Doran Martell and Elia Martell, ca out to receive . When he offered bread and salt, it was plain he did so through gritted teeth. Not wishing to provoke a prince known for his temper and his recklessness, I asked to be shown to my chambers so that I might make myself presentable. After the standard formalities of greeting, I was led to my rooms.
When I had finished putting myself in order, I decided not to put off the negotiations and asked a servant to take to the Dornish Prince. Doran Martell bore little resemblance to his brother Oberyn in manner, though in appearance he was unmistakably Martell. He was dressed in rich cloth of orange embroidered with crimson thread. Dark hair, olive skin, and dark eyes that seed to look straight through you. In those eyes I could plainly see signs of a formidable intelligence. Negotiations with such n can be difficult, depending on the temper they are in. The great hall's furnishings were impressive in their richness. There were many exotic objects from cities across the Narrow Sea. Dorne's trade with Essos was extensive, and their exports were the chief source of inco for the southernmost of the kingdoms. To Doran's left I found a tall, broad-shouldered man with an axe at his back. I did not know his na, but he was plainly soone the Prince trusted entirely. The representatives of every Dornish house were also present.
Doran Martell, as it turned out, could not walk because of his illness. He remained seated throughout, and we t at supper.
"I welco you, Lord Arryn," Prince Doran gave a slight nod. "I suggest we eat first and speak afterward. Experience the hospitality of Dorne."
The hospitality of Dorne is the last thing I want to experience. Dornishn seldom break the laws of hospitality outright, but they have co very close to it more tis than anyone could count.
"With pleasure, Prince Doran," I said, giving a small bow in return.
I was seated to the Prince's left. My retinue was arranged by the servants according to rank, and the dishes began to arrive. From the tables of knights and lords there ca a constant hum of conversation, but at our table we ate in silence. It was Oberyn who broke it first:
"So they call you the Great Falcon now?" he asked, making no effort to conceal the mockery in his voice.
The Great Falcon. The na the common people had given after the capture of King's Landing, for the rebellion that had destroyed a dynasty which had ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years. Not the most original of nas, but better than the Old Falcon, at any rate.
"We receive our nas in accordance with what we have earned. Would you not agree, Red Viper?"
Red Viper: a formidable title. He ca by it through his nature and his fondness for poisons, which had killed a number of noble n. The most notorious had been Lord Edgar Ironwood, the head of House Ironwood. It had been a terrible scandal that nearly drove the Ironwoods to open rebellion, but Prince Doran's diplomacy and a royal marriage brought them back from the brink.
"And I agree entirely, but your na was built on the blood of my sister and her son! How much greatness is there in that?" He shoved back from the table and rose, gripping his knife. My guards drew their swords. The Martell household guard leveled their spears. A single spark was all it would have taken.
"Stand down! Lower your spears! Oberyn, sit down and put the knife away!" Doran snapped.
Silence fell completely. Every man in the hall waited in breathless tension to see what Prince Oberyn would do. I noticed that most of the Dornish lords were watching for his lead. The sound of tal dropping onto wood rang through the hall as the Prince let the knife fall from his hand.
"Forgive , my lords, but I seem to have lost my appetite," and again the only sound in the silence was the rhythm of his retreating footsteps.
The mont Prince Oberyn was gone, every weapon was put away at once, though the oppressive atmosphere did not lift. Prince Doran offered:
"You have traveled a long road and must be tired. I suggest we postpone the negotiations until tomorrow."
"You have my thanks."
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