"Dragon," Morand said, grabbing a shriveled apple from the ground and tossing it between his hands. "Throw it away." Laresa, nicknamed "Sphinx", urged.He drew an arrow from his quiver and put it on the bowstring. "I want to see dragons." Rooney was the youngest among them, short and fat, and he was only two years old before becoming an adult. "Even a glance is fine." I want Rosie to sleep with her arms around me, thought Pate.He moved restlessly on the bench.By tomorrow morning, the girl will be his.I will take her far from Oldtown, across the Narrow Sea, to the Free Cities.There is no maester there, no one will catch him.

Emma's laughter came from the narrow window above her head, mixed with the deep voice of the benefactor—she was the oldest waitress of "Quilling Pen and Wine Bottle", she was over forty years old, but she was plump and charming.Rosie was her daughter, fifteen years old, who had just had her period.Emma had already announced that Roxie's first night would cost a golden dragon.Pate worked hard to save nine silver stags, plus a jar of copper star coins and scattered copper plates, but it might be more difficult for him to save a full gold coin than hatching a real dragon. "You were born too late to see dragons, boy," Assistant Maester Aman told Rooney.Around his neck was a leather rope and chains of white, tin, lead, and copper, and like most maesters, he seemed to think that apprentices had turnips on their shoulders, not heads. "The last dragon died in the reign of Aegon III."

"That's the last dragon of Westeros," Morand emphasized. "Throw the apple quickly." Laresa urged again.The handsome boy, known as the "Sphinx", was very popular with the waitresses, and even Rosie would occasionally touch his arm when serving drinks, so Pate had to grit his teeth and pretend not to see it. "The last dragon in Westeros is the last dragon in the whole world," Oman said stubbornly. "Everyone knows that." "Apple," Laresa said, "unless you want to eat it." "Here we come." Morand took a light step with his deformed foot, turned around, threw his arm out, and threw the apple into the mist on the Mead River.Had it not been for that foot, he might have been a knight like his father.He had strong arms and broad shoulders, not lacking in strength, and the apple flew far and fast... but not as good as the arrow that roared behind, a yard long golden wood shaft with bright red trim Feathers.Pate didn't see the arrow hit the apple, but heard the sound.A slight muffled sound echoed on the river, followed by the sound of falling water.

Moreland whistled. "On target. Honey." Rosie is my baby.Pate loved her hazel eyes, her budding breasts, and the way she smiled every time she saw him.He loves the dimples on her cheeks.He also liked that she would go barefoot now and then to feel the grass beneath her feet.He loved her fresh smell, the way her hair curled behind her ears, even her toes.One night she gave him her feet to rub and play with, and he made up a funny story for each toe that made her giggle. Maybe it's better to stay on this side of the narrow sea.With the money he saved, he could buy a donkey, and Roxie and Roxie would take turns riding around Westeros.Though Ambrose thought he was not yet worthy of the silver chain, Pate had learned how to set bones and bleed with leeches to bring down a fever.People will value him.If he learns how to cut hair and shave, he can even be a barber.That's enough, he told himself, just having Rosie.Rosie was all he wanted.

It wasn't like that before.Once he had dreamed of becoming a maester in the castle, serving some generous lord who would respect his advice and reward him with a fine white horse for his service.He will ride high on the horse, solemn and noble, smiling and looking down at the passing civilians all the way... Until one night, in the great hall of the Quill, Pate boasted that he would not be an apprentice forever. "Of course," cried Leo the Lazy, "you'll be an ex-swineherd's apprentice, ha ha!" He drank the residue from his cup.The torch shines on the terrace where the "Quill Wine Bottle" is located, like an island of light in a sea of ​​fog.In the distance downstream, the beacon fire on the towering tower floated in the dense water vapor of the night, like a hazy and magical orange moon, but it was hard to boost his mood.

The alchemist should be here, right? !Is this a cruel joke?Or is something wrong with that person?This isn't the first time good luck has turned bad for Pate.He had been smug that he had been chosen to help old Dr. Wargrave manage the crows, but he never dreamed that he would have to cook, clean, and dress the doctor every morning.Everyone said that Wargrave had forgotten more about crows than any other maester knew, and Pate thought he had at least a chance of getting a black iron chain, only to find out that Wargrave couldn't impart anything at all.It is entirely out of courtesy to let the old man still wear the title of doctor.Yes, he used to be great, but now he can't even cover his dirty underwear with a robe. Half a year ago, several assistant maesters found him crying in the library because he couldn't find his way back to his room.Maester Gorman now helms the Iron Mask in his place, and it was Gorman who accused Pate of stealing.

From an apple tree by the river, a nightingale began to sing, which was a heavenly sound to Pate, who was used to the screeching and endless chatter of crows.The crows knew his name, and whenever they saw him they whispered to each other, "Pate, Pate, Pate," until he wanted to scream.These great white birds were Dr. Wargrave's pride, and after his death Wargrave wanted them to eat him, and Pate suspected they were planning to eat him too. Maybe it was the strong cider—in fact, he didn't come here to drink, but just happened to meet Laresa's treat to celebrate the copper chain, and because of guilt, he felt that he drank too much—to his ears, the nightingale seemed to be Singing excitedly: black iron for gold, black iron for gold, black iron for gold.Oddly enough, that was exactly what Rosie had said to the stranger that night when he had arranged for him to meet him. "Who are you?" Pat asked.The man replied, "I am an alchemist, and you can exchange black iron for my gold." A golden dragon appeared in his hand, turning it over between his knuckles, and the pale yellow gold coins shone in the candlelight, among them On one side is a three-headed dragon, and on the other is some dead king.Black iron for gold, he thought, there was no better chance.do you want herDo you love her? "I'm not a thief," he told the self-proclaimed alchemist, "I'm an apprentice in the Academy City." The alchemist nodded, "You should think about it again. I will return here with the Golden Dragon Coin in three days."

Three full days passed, and Pate returned to the "Quill and Wine Bottle", still undecided. Instead of waiting for the alchemist, he met Moreland, Oman, "Sphinx" and Rooney.If you don't join in the celebration, you will definitely arouse suspicion. "Feather pen wine bottle" never closes. For six hundred years, it has always stood on the small island in the honey wine river, and has never closed its doors.Though the tall log house leaned south like a drunken apprentice, Pater had no doubts that it would continue to stand for another six hundred years, selling wine and ale and cider to riverwalkers, sailors, blacksmiths and singers, Monks and princes, apprentices and assistant maesters of the Academy are all frequent visitors here.

"Oldtown is not the whole world," Morand shouted.He was the son of a knight, and was very drunk at the moment.After learning that his father died in the Heishui River, he got drunk every night.Alas, the War of the Five Kings affected everyone, even in an old town far from war, protected by high walls... but Dr. Benedick insisted there was no such thing as a "War of Five Kings" because Renly Baratheon was killed long before Balon Greyjoy made himself king. "My father used to say that the world is beyond the lord's castle." Morland continued, "In Qarth, Asshai, or Yidi, dragons must be the most inconspicuous thing. The recent stories of sailors Say……"

"...the stories of the sailors are just stories," Aman interrupted him, "Sailor, dear Moreland, I bet you can find people like that anytime you go to the pier, or claim to have slept with a mermaid , or brag about spending a year in the belly of a fish." "How do you know they don't?" Moreland stomped on the grass looking for apples, "unless you've burrowed into the belly of a fish yourself. The stories of individual sailors, yes, you can laugh it off, but the four ships Paddlers speaking four different languages ​​telling the same story..."

"It's not the same story," Oman insisted. "The dragons of Asshai, the dragons of Qarth, the dragons of Meereen, the dragons of the Dothraki, the dragons who freed the slaves...the story is different." "Only the details are different." Moreland became more stubborn when he was drunk, and he was already stubborn enough when he was sober. "There are dragons in the story, and a young and beautiful queen." Pate only cared about Jinlong.He pondered the alchemist.This is the third day.He said he would be back. "There is an apple at your feet," Laresa called to Morand, "and I have two arrows in my quiver." "Go to hell with your quiver." Morand picked up the fallen fruit. "Infested with worms," ​​he complained, but threw it anyway.As the apple began to fall, it was caught squarely by the arrow and split cleanly in two.Half of it fell on the top of the tower, then rolled to the lower eaves below, and bounced to Aman's side a foot away. "Cut a worm in half and it will become two worms," ​​the maester taught them. "It would be great if Apple could do the same, and no one in the world would go hungry." Laresa said with her usual smile. The "Sphinx" is always smiling, as if he knows some secret joke, which makes him look a bit malicious, especially with his pointed chin, pointed nose, pointed forehead and short black thick curly hair send. Laresa will be a Bachelor.He had only been in the Academy City for one year, but he had already forged the three chains of the necklace.Although Oman has many chains, it takes a year to work on each one, but in the end, he will also become a bachelor.Rooney and Moreland are still apprentices with bare necks, but Rooney is still young, and Moreland prefers drinking to reading. As for Pate... He has been in Xuecheng for five years, and he was only thirteen years old when he came from the western region. Time flies, but his neck is still as smooth as when he first arrived.Twice he believed he was ready.The first time was to demonstrate astronomical knowledge in front of Dr. Vering, and it taught him that Vering's nickname of "sour vinegar" really deserved its reputation; it took Pate two years to work up the courage to try again.This time he trusted good old Dr. Ambrose, who had always been gentle in his words and deeds, but Ambrose's sighs proved as painful as Verin's taunts. "One last apple," Laresa promised, "and I'll tell you what I think of these dragons." "What will you know that I don't?" muttered Moreland.He found an apple on a branch, jumped up, plucked it, and threw it out.Laresa drew the bowstring to her ear, gracefully following her target's flight path.Just as the apple was about to fall, the arrow flew out of the string. "You keep missing the last arrow," Rooney said. Before the words fell, the apple fell into the river intact. "See?" Rooney said. "The day you won the grand slam is the time when you can't make any progress." After saying that, Laresa unloaded the bowstring, and lightly stuffed the longbow into the leather case.This bow is carved from Goldheart wood, a rare wood found in the Summer Isles.Pate touched the bow, but could not draw it. The sphinx looks weak, but its long thin arms are powerful, he thought.At this moment, Laresa stretched her legs over the bench while reaching for the wine glass. "The dragon has three heads," he announced in a soft Dornish drawl. "Is this a riddle?" Rooney wondered. "The legendary sphinx is the one who solves the riddle." "It's not a puzzle." Laresa sipped her wine.While everyone else drank the hard cider for which the Quill decanter was famous, he favored the exotic sweet wine from his mother's homeland, which was expensive even in Oldtown. Leo the Lazy nicknamed Laresa the "Sphinx."Legend has it that the Sphinx has four images: a human face, a lion body, and eagle wings.Laresa was just like that: his father was a Dornishman, his mother a dark Summer Islander, and his own skin was as dark as teak, like the green marble sphinxes that flanked the gates of the Academy, Laresa. Sa's eyes were the color of onyx. "There was never a dragon with three heads, except for the coats of arms drawn on shields and banners," insisted Aman, the assistant maester. "That was a design at best. Besides, the Targaryens are all dead." "There is no death," Laresa said, "The sister of the Beggar King is still alive." "Didn't she smash her head against the wall?" Rooney said. "No," said Laresa, "you speak of Aegon, Prince Rhaegar's son, who was slain by the Lannister Lion's warriors. I speak of Rhaegar's sister, who was born there before the fall of Dragonstone, It's called Daenerys." "'Stormborn'! I remember." Moreland raised his glass, and the remaining cider splashed out. "Cheers to her!" He drank it down, smashed the empty glass on the table with a "bang", hiccupped, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Where's Roxie? Let's have another round for the rightful queen, shall we?" Assistant bachelor Aman looked horrified: "Hush your voice, idiot, this kind of thing is not a joke. The walls have ears, and there are octopus eyeliners everywhere." "Oh, wet your pants, Oman? That's fine, I just suggested that we drink more wine, not to rebel." Someone giggled, and then a soft, sly voice came from behind Pate. "I knew you were a traitor, frog." "Lazy" Leo came over from the shaky old wooden bridge.He was dressed in satin clothes with green and gold stripes, a black silk shawl pinned by a carved jade rose, and the front of the skirt was stained with wine stains, judging by the color, it was dark red wine.A lock of light blond hair hangs down over one eye. Moreland bristled at the sight of him. "Fuck your grandma. Go away. You are not welcome here." Laresa stretched out a hand to hold his arm to calm him down, while Aman frowned, "Lord Leo, as far as I know, you It's not that I was banned by the school city, but I still have to wait..." "...Three days." "Lazy" Leo shrugged, "Perestan said that the world has a history of 40,000 years, but Moras said that it is 500,000 years old. All in all, what is three days?" In the terrace There were more than a dozen empty tables, and Leo sat at their table. "Bring me a glass of Arbor's golden wine, Frog, and maybe I won't tell Dad your toast. I've had bad luck at 'Change Roulette' and spent my last Silver Stag on Dinner is served. Suckling pig in plum sauce, stuffed with chestnuts and white pine mushrooms, well, people have to eat. By the way, what do you guys eat?" "Mutton," Morand muttered.It doesn't sound like he's happy. "We share a piece of boiled mutton." "That must be enough." Leo turned to Laresa. "What's the matter? The son of a rich family should be generous, Sphinx. I know you got the brass chain, how about buying me a drink to celebrate?" Laresa smiled back. "I only invite friends to drink. And I'm not the son of a wealthy family. As I said, my mother is a businessman." Leo's hazel eyes gleamed with wine and malice. "Your mother's a monkey from the Summer Isles, well, any Dornishman will fuck if there's a hole between his legs anyway. Oh, don't be mad, your skin may be like a hazelnut shell, but at least you can bathe, unlike Our freckled swineherd." He waved to Pate. I could knock out at least half of his teeth with a wine glass in his mouth, Pate thought.The protagonist of many folk tales is the swineherd "Freckled" Pate, a good-natured but goofy country bumpkin who triumphs over his oppressors, including fat lords, haughty knights and hypocritical monks.Although he is stupid, he often makes perfect out of clumsy, and at the end of each story, Pate "Freckles" either sits in the lord's high-back chair, or sleeps in the bed with some knight's daughter.But stories are just stories after all. In the real world, it is impossible for a swineherd to have a good life.Sometimes Pate thought that his mother must have hated him for giving him such a name. Laresa suppressed her smile: "You have to apologize." "Really?" Leo said, "I have a dry throat, how can I apologize..." "Every word you utter is a disgrace to your family," Laresa told him, "and a disgrace to the Citadel." "Really? Then you quickly buy me a glass of wine, maybe you can cover up my shame for me." Moreland said, "I'm going to pull out your tongue." "Hehe, how can I tell you about the dragon?" Leo shrugged again. "The bastard was right, the daughter of the 'Mad King' is still alive, and she hatched three dragons herself." "Three?" Rooney responded in surprise. Leo clapped his hands. "More than two, less than four. If I were you, I wouldn't try the gold chain test." "Don't bully him." Moreland warned. "What a righteous frog. Well, I tell you, any ship that sails within a hundred leagues of Qarth these days talks about dragons. Some will even tell you they've seen real dragons .'Wizards' tend to believe these claims." Oman pouted disapprovingly. "Marwyn is unreliable. Dr. Perestan never pays attention to him." "Dr. Ryan thinks so too," Rooney said. Leo yawned. "There is water in the sea, the sun is hot, and the pets in the pen hate the watchdog." He has nicknames for everyone, Pate thought, but he couldn't deny that Marwyn was more a watchdog than a maester.He seemed to be sniffing anytime, anywhere, ready to bite. A "magician" is different from other maesters.They said he kept company with whores and hedge wizards, talked in their tongues with hairy Ibans and pitch-black Summer Islanders, and worshiped strange gods in little sailor's temples by the wharves.Some people saw him in the lower city, he would hang out with actors, singers, mercenaries, and even beggars in slums and black brothels, and there were whispers that he killed people with his bare hands. Marwyn spent eight years in the far east, drawing maps, searching for lost books, visiting wizards and shadowbinders, and after returning to Oldtown, Verin "Sour Vinegar" nicknamed him "Marwyn the Wizard". ’, much to his chagrin, the nickname spread like wildfire and soon spread throughout Oldtown. "Leave the pretense to the monks and monks. You have to use your brains to learn the truth of the world." Dr. Ryan once advised Pater, but Ryan was covered in gold from rings, canes to masks, and his There is no Valyrian steel chain in the maester's necklace. Aman looked down at Lazy Leo along his nose—his nose was long, narrow, and pointed, which suited the expression perfectly. "Master Marwyn believes in many strange things," he declared. "He, like Moreland, has no evidence of dragons, but tales of sailors." "You're wrong," Leo said. "There's a glass candle burning in the 'Magician' room." The brightly lit terrace suddenly fell silent.Aman sighed and shook his head.Moreland laughed heartily. The "Sphinx" stared at Leo with big black eyes.Rooney looked dazed. Pate knew about glass candles, but had never seen them burn.Glass candles are an open secret of the Academy City. According to legend, thousands of years ago, before the doomsday catastrophe came, four candles were brought from Valyria to the Old Town, one green and three black, all long and twisted. "What's a glass candle?" Rooney asked. Assistant Maester Aman cleared his throat. "The night before every assistant maester takes his oath to become a maester, he must keep a vigil in the cellar without carrying any light, no torch, no oil lamp, no joss stick... only an obsidian candle. He must spend it in darkness One night, unless the candle can be lighted. Some fools will actually try it, folks who practice the so-called 'higher occult arts' can't wait. It just cuts fingers - the edge of the candle is as sharp as a razor - bloody, in the Waiting for the dawn in the depression of failure. Smart people will go straight to sleep, or pray all night, but there are always a few people every year who are not reconciled." "Yes." Pate had heard the same story, "but what's the use of a candle that doesn't light up?" "This is a lesson," said Aman, "the last lesson we have before we don our maester's necklace. The glass candle represents truth and learning, precious, beautiful, and fragile. The shape of the candle reminds us that no matter where we serve, the maester Both must radiate light to dispel ignorance; the sharp edge of the candle reminds us that knowledge also has a dangerous side, and a learned man will be conceited because of his wisdom. As a bachelor, we must always remain humble; finally, glass candles remind us , Before taking the oath, before putting on the necklace, before going to serve, the long nights passed in the dark, remembering how nothing that one could do could light the candle... A man of knowledge is not omnipotent. " "Lazy" Leo laughed loudly, "You mean you can't do it. I saw that candle burn with my own eyes." "You have indeed seen burning candles, I have no doubt," Aman said solemnly, "probably black wax candles." "I see what I know very well. The light from that candle is strange and bright, much brighter than a beeswax or tallow candle. It casts strange shadows, and never flickers, even when the wind blows through the open door. Come in." Oman folded his arms, "Come on, obsidian cannot be burned." "Dragonglass," Pate said, "the folks call it Dragonglass." Somehow, that seemed important. "Exactly," Laresa, known as the "Sphinx", pondered, "If the real dragon reappears..." "Dragon, there are darker things," Leo said. "The gray sheep closed their eyes, but the watchdogs discovered the truth. The ancient power has awakened, and the shadows are about to move. The age of miracles and horrors is coming. It is also the era of gods and heroes." He stretched his waist and showed a lazy smile. "In my opinion, it's worth another round of drinking." "We've had enough to drink," said Amman, "and anyway, it's almost dawn. Dr. Ambrose's lectures on the properties of urine and silver chains cannot be missed this morning." "I won't stop you from tasting the piss," Leo said. "As for me, I prefer the golden wine of the Arbor." "I have to choose between drinking piss and listening to your noise, I would rather drink piss." Morand pushed the table and stood up. "Come on, Rooney." The Sphinx reached for the holster. "It's time for me to sleep too. Hope to dream of dragons and glass candles." "All going?" Leo shrugged. "Well, at least there's Rosie here. Maybe I'll wake up our sweetie and make her a woman." Laresa saw the look on Pate's face. "He doesn't even have a copper plate to buy wine, and he won't have gold dragon coins to buy that girl." "Yes," said Moreland, "and only a real man can make her a woman. Come with me, Pate. Old Wargrave will wake up as soon as the sun comes up. He'll have to ask you when he goes to the bathroom." help." The premise is that he remembers who I am today.Dr. Wargrave had no trouble identifying individual crows, but not so much identifying people.Sometimes he thought Pate was some Cressen. "I don't want to go yet," he told his friends. "Stay a little longer." Before dawn, there was still time.The alchemist was still a possibility, and if he came, Pate didn't want to miss it. "It's up to you." Aman said.Laresa looked at Pate for a while, then put the bow on one narrow shoulder, and followed the others across the bridge.Morand was so drunk that he could only put his hands on Rooney's shoulders to prevent him from falling.For the flying crows, it is not too far from here to the Academy City, but unfortunately they are not crows, and the Old Town is a veritable maze, full of criss-crossing, narrow and winding alleys and streets, seemingly very close The distance, but have to go around a few big circles. "Be careful," Pete heard Aman's voice, and the fog on the river quickly swallowed up the four people's backs. "The humidity is heavy at night, and the pebbles will be slippery." After they left, Leo the Lazy stared sourly across the table and rested on Pate. "How sad. The 'Sphinx' ran away with the silver, leaving me with 'Freckled' Pate the swineherd." He stretched and yawned. "Oh, where's our sweet little Rosie?" "Sleeping," Pate said succinctly. "I dare say she must be naked." Leo grinned. "Do you think she is really worth a golden dragon? One day, I will find out the answer myself." Pete didn't answer. Leo didn't need him to answer: "When I break that girl's body, her price will drop to the point where even a swineherd can afford it. At that time, you should thank me very much." I'm going to kill you, Pate thought, but he wasn't drunk enough to kill himself.Leo was known to be trained to wield an assassin's short sword and dagger.Taking a step back, even if Pate could kill him, it would mean that his head would not be safe.Pate has a name and no surname, but Leo has both. His surname is "Tyrell"-his father is Ser Maureen Tyrell, Commander of the Oldtown Garrison, and his cousin is the Duke of Highgarden Mace Tyrell, who is also the guardian of the southern border, and the owner of Old Town, the "Old Man of Old Town", Earl Leighton of the towering tower, includes "Guardian of the Academy City" among his many titles. He is also sworn to serve the Tyrell family. vassal.Forget it, take it for a while, Pate told himself, he just said this to hurt me anyway. The fog in the east is gradually dissipating.It was dawn, Pate realized, and the alchemist hadn't come.He didn't know whether to cry or laugh.Put things back without anyone knowing, am I still a thief?It was another question he couldn't answer, the same ones Ambrose and Verin had asked. He stood up from the bench, the hard cider pouring over his head.He had to support the table with one hand to stabilize his body. "Stay away from Rosie," he said goodbye, "stay away from her, or I'll kill you." Leo Tyrell pushed the hair out of his eyes. "I don't duel swineherds. Go away." Pate turned and walked across the terrace, stepping on the old weather-beaten wooden bridge.When he crossed the bridge, the eastern sky was slightly red.The world is vast, he told himself, buying that donkey, I can still roam the roads and lanes of the Seven Kingdoms, bleeding the common people and removing their lice.I could also be contracted and hired to paddle a ship, sail to Qarth via the Jade Gate, and see the monstrous dragons for myself.I'm not going back to take care of old Wargrave and those crows. However, his footsteps still turned back to the school city. The first rays of sunlight pierced the clouds in the east, and the morning bells of the Sailor's Chapel rang across the harbor, and later the Lord's Chapel joined in, and then the bells of the Seven Temples came from the garden on the other side of the Mead, Finally, there was the Starry Sept—the seat of the High Septon for a thousand years before Aegon arrived in King's Landing.The bells from all over the place blend together to form a magnificent movement.Alas, it's actually not as sweet as that little nightingale's singing last night. There is singing under the bell.Whenever the first light of dawn appears in the morning, the red monks will gather outside the simple temple by the pier to welcome the rising sun.The night is dark and dangerous everywhere, and Pate has heard hundreds of chants, they begged R'hllor to save the world in the darkness.The Seven Gods are enough for him, but I heard that Stannis Baratheon is also worshiping before the night fire now, and even replaced the crowned stag on the banner with R'hllor's flaming heart.If he wins the Iron Throne, I'm afraid we'll all have to learn the song of the red monk, Pate thought, but that's unlikely.Tywin Lannister had defeated Stannis and R'hllor on the Blackwater, and would soon have wiped them out, and had hung the head of the Baratheon Usurper at the gates of King's Landing at his spear. The night mist gradually evaporated, and the sights of Old Town loomed around him like ghosts growing into shape.Pate had never seen King's Landing, but he knew it was a disorganized city of earthen streets, thatched roofs, and wooden huts.The old town is built of stone, the streets are cobbled, even the humblest alleys are no exception, and the city is most beautiful at dawn.To the west of the Mead River, palace-like guild halls line the banks.Upstream, the domes and towers of the Citadel stand on both sides of the river, and stone bridges interspersed with houses connect the two banks.Downstream, beneath the black marble walls and arched windows of the Sept of the Stars, clustered the houses of bishops, like children gathered at the feet of old ladies. In the distance, the Mead River becomes wider and wider, and finally flows into Whispering Bay. The towering tower is located at the mouth of the river, and the beacon fire at its top is dazzling against the dawn sky.The tower is located on the cliffs of the Isle of Conquest, and the shadow it casts is like a sharp sword cutting through the city. Anyone who was born and raised in Oldtown can tell the time of day by the length of the shadow.Some people even claim that standing on the top of the tower, you can see the Great Wall all the time—maybe this is the reason why Lord Layton has not stepped down from the tower for more than ten years, or maybe he likes to rule his city in the clouds. A butcher's trailer rumbled past Pate along the causeway, five little pigs wailing in it.Just dodging the trailer, another woman poured toilet filth from the window above his head, and he narrowly avoided it.When I'm a maester in the castle, I'll have horses, he thought, stumbling over a stone.Don't deceive yourself, how can you sit at the lord's table without a necklace, how can you have a white horse to ride?All he could do was listen to the crows and scrub the dung stains off Dr. Wargrave's underwear every day. He was on one knee, trying to wipe the dirt off his robes, when a voice said, "Good morning, Pate." The alchemist was just ahead of him. Pete stood up quickly. "On the third day...you said you would go to 'Quill and Wine Bottle'." "You are with your friends, I'd better not disturb your party this time." The alchemist was wearing an inconspicuous brown hooded traveling cloak, and the sun just climbed the roof behind him, making it difficult to see clearly Face. "Have you decided to change your destiny?" He must force me to speak out? "I became a thief." "yes." The hardest part of the whole thing was getting on all fours and dragging the safe out of under Dr. Wargrave's bed.The chest was strong, with iron hoops, but the lock was broken.Maester Gormon suspects that Pate did something good, but this is not the case. After Wargrave lost the key, he broke the lock himself. Inside, Pate found a bag of silver stags, a lock of yellow hair tied in a ribbon, a portrait of a woman who looked exactly like Wargrave (even with a mustache), and a knight's lobster-shaped steel gauntlet .Wargrave claimed the gauntlet belonged to some prince, but could not remember who.Pate shook the gauntlet, and the key fell out, onto the floor. Pick it up and I'm a thief, he remembered thinking.The key is old and heavy, made of black iron; it can open every door in the Citadel, and only the Doctor has it.The other Doctors carried the key with them, or hid it in a safe place—yes, anyway, Wargrave hid his key, and no one could find it.Pate grabbed the key, walked to the door, turned back halfway and took the silver coins.They are all thieves anyway, no matter how much they steal. "Pate," a white crow called his name, "Pate, Pete, Pete." "Did you bring the golden dragon?" he asked the alchemist. "Pay with one hand and deliver with one hand." "Take out the golden dragon, and I'll take a look first." Pate didn't want to be fooled. "The river is not convenient. Come with me." He had no time to ponder, no time to weigh things up.The alchemist went further and further away, and Pate could only keep up, otherwise he would lose Roxie and the golden dragon coin forever.As he walked, he reached into his sleeve and found the key, which now lay safely in an inner pocket he had sewn with his own hands.A maester's robe should have its pockets sewn full, he'd known that since he was a boy. He quickened his steps to keep up with the alchemist's broad stride.They entered an alley, turned a corner, passed through the notorious black market, and proceeded down Scavengers Alley.Finally, the man turned into another alley, narrower than the previous one. "That's enough," Pate said. "There's no one around. Just do business here." "up to you." "I want my golden dragon." "Here you are." The coin appeared.The alchemist rolled it over his knuckles, the way Rosie had done when he arranged for their meeting.The golden dragon turned, and the gold shone in the morning light, as if coating the alchemist's fingers with a layer of golden light. Pate grabbed the gold coin.It felt warm in the palm of his hand, and he imitated others, put it to his mouth and bit it - he had seen others do it, but honestly, he didn't know what gold tasted like, just didn't want to look like a fool . "Where's the key?" the alchemist asked politely. For some reason, Pate hesitated suddenly. “你想偷书吗？”地窖底下锁着一些古老的瓦雷利亚卷轴，据说是世上仅存的副本。 "none of your business." “没错。”成交了，佩特告诉自己，成交了，快走吧，快回“羽笔酒樽”，吻醒萝希，告诉她，她属于你了。然而他没动。“让我看看你的脸。” “随你便。”炼金术士拉下兜帽。 他是个普通人，有一张普普通通的面孔，年轻的面孔，但平凡无奇，丰满的脸颊，隐约的胡碴，右颊上有一道淡淡的疤痕。他长着鹰钩鼻，外加一头整齐繁茂的黑鬈发。佩特不认识这面孔。 "I do not know you." “我也不认识你。” "Who are you?" “无名之辈。谁也不是。真的。” “哦。”佩特再也无话可讲。他掏出钥匙，放到陌生人手中，只觉得头昏眼花，轻飘飘的。萝希，他提醒自己。 "Then it's a deal." 他沿小巷走到一半，脚下的鹅卵石开始移动起来。夜里潮湿，鹅卵石又湿又滑，他想起阿曼的话，但现在已是上午了啊。他觉得心脏怦怦直跳。“怎么回事？”双腿仿佛化成了水，“我不明白。” “也永远不会明白。”某人悲哀地说。 鹅卵石地蓦然迎面扑来。佩特想呼救，却喊不出声。 他最后想到的是萝希。