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( Ilyn Payne POV )
Ser Ilyn Payne was not entirely disappointed with how his life had turned out.
Oh, he was still bitter about losing his tongue, no doubt. If he could get King Aerys in his hands he thought he'd probably strangle the man, consequences be damned, for robbing him of his ability to speak. For making men see him as a cripple though his arm was still strong.
It was just that, even in spite of his mute status, he had found a position he was good at in Casterly Rock. The generosity of Lord Tywin and the kindness of his son had given Ser Ilyn a new lease on life, and he found that he had come to enjoy it a great deal.
The gift of letters had given him power and authority once again, men heeded his commands and saw him with respect, albeit not the same sort of men who had respected him before. Ser Ilyn had been a martial man, a captain of the guard in King's Landing, respected for his skill at arms and his competence. Now he was a man of whispers, an information broker for merchants and mummers and men of coin and cloth.
It hadn't been a change he particularly desired or pursued. He would have preferred to establish the network young Callum asked him to build out of knights and guards and men at arms. They were the sorts of men he knew best after all. Easy to motivate and easy to lead, but they also couldn't read. Thick-headed sorts, it would take them years to learn to read his orders even if they were motivated to do so. It has taken Ilyn a year to learn his letters under young Callum's daily instruction, and he had been a very motivated student for understandable reasons.
So Ilyn had been forced to establish his network through men who could already read and write, Merchants and Accountants and Septons and Septas. They could understand his questions, his requests, and his offers of the sort of information that would be useful to all of them. More an information broker than a spymaster, in his own opinion, Ilyn maintained an office in Lannisport as well as the one he had been given in the Rock.
Every day he went down to the city and gathered rumors, gossip, the prevailing prices for various goods, and the ongoings within the Gold Sept and the rest of the church. Merchants would come to him to purchase information on the prevailing rates in Lannisport, Oldtown, Seaguard, and the lesser ports that dotted the coast of Westeros. In turn, they would share their own knowledge on such matters and any gossip they had heard in other ports.
Septons and occasionally Septas meanwhile came to hear about and share news of open positions within the church, and in other gossip, jockeying about in their own little political games. He doubted the usefulness of such information, but he recorded it all because Young Callum had asked him to. The men of the church seemed quite eager to talk as well. Ilyn thought that most of them adored the sound of their own voices.
It was remarkable too how little Lord Tywin seemed to care for all of it. Tywin had been a bit surprised when Ilyn had first told him that Young Callum had offered to make Ilyn his spymaster, but after he saw what Callum had Ilyn doing the Lion of the Rock had simply chuckled and told him to make sure his son didn't end up in trouble because of it. Of the two, Young Callum was far more involved, always making suggestions and seeking to improve the effectiveness of Ilyn's 'intelligence collections'
Indeed, the little Lion had a quiet finger to the pulse of his affairs. He had suggested the addition of a small tavern and bakery to expand his office in Lannisport, so that men would come in the mornings to talk and eat bread, and men would come in the evenings to talk and drink ale. It had substantially increased the number of merchants stopping by and had even turned a bit of a profit in its own right.
Strangely though, the boy had rebuffed him when Ilyn had suggested hiring whores. Ilyn knew that men talked most of all when they were whoring, it was a constant problem in King's Landing, but Callum was dead set against it.
"Whores would gain us more information in the short term, but in the long term they would give us a poor reputation." The boy had said. "It is important that we be a respectable establishment that the more upstanding merchants and men of the cloth can visit openly. If they are seen coming and going from our door, then we will see more business from those chasing after them to get in their good graces."
Ilyn couldn't speak to the wisdom of that decision, but he was still making a good enterprise as an information broker and was actually starting to feel a bit short-staffed as the number of men who wanted to speak with him had exceeded his ability to respond.
That was what led to the current situation.
Goodfather Boros was a cheerful man, overweight and bulbous, his body jiggled with every step he took but his eyes, which peeked out from beneath thick brown eyebrows were keen and cheerful. A lover of stories and a good teller also, he was one of the most regular visitors to Ilyn's little establishment. Particularly in the mornings when they had fresh baked goods to go along with the conversation.
He was a great gossip and knew a great deal about the politics in the Golden Star Sept of Lannisport. His official position was Goodfather of the Fatherhouse of Lannisport, the institution responsible for teaching new Septons the way of the faith, and he didn't seem inclined to move any higher within the faith. He was always aware of where the talented young Septons were going, a remarkable source of intelligence from Young Callum's perspective, and apparently a potential ally in the boy's plans.
Septa Margot was, in Ilyn's estimation, the opposite. A slender and whip-like woman, she had sharp, gaunt features and a harsh demeanor, but she seemed even more devout than Boros. The name of the Seven was always on her lips and she was a fiery speaker in the church. A climber then, amongst the Septas she was interested in growing in authority and seeing her will be done at a larger scale. It was thus unsurprising that she had agreed to this meeting. One that young Callum was attending himself.
In truth, Ilyn was a bit nervous about the whole thing. If word got out that Callum was his patron and not Lord Tywin, it might impact the success of his operations somewhat, but Callum had been insistent on doing this in person, even apparently securing permission from his Uncle, Ser Kevan, to come down to Lannisport proper.
The boy, dressed in a red and gold doublet, sat in Ilyn's chair and looked far too small for it. Beside him was a pile of leather-bound books he'd brought down with him from the Rock, all stacked in four neat pillars on the desk. Ilyn considered asking what they were but decided against it. He was sure they'd come up in the meeting at any rate.
Septa Margot was the first to arrive, walking in quickly, the narrow woman glanced around, turning to greet him as her eyes worked over the room, drinking in everything in sight. "Ser Ilyn." She said, her eyes turning down to the boy next to him. "A child? Who's this then?"
Ilyn held up the notepad he always carried with him, scribbling out 'Callum Lannister. Lord Tywin's son.'
The septa's eyebrows rose a bit before she glanced back to Callum, who was now looking up at her, matching her stare. "Hmmph, I would have mistaken you for a girl." She said, not flinching even slightly at the boy's stare.
"I take after my mother." Callum replied cooly."Sit down already. You're blocking the door."
Ilyn's hand reflexively went towards his sword as her eyes narrowed at the boy, but she was just being spiteful, as she did move to sit. "Lordling or not, boy, I hope you don't waste my time."
"Now, now, Margot, no need to be rude." Goodfather Boros's cheerful voice echoed from the hall, and the large man followed after it, squeezing past the door into the room. "Good day Ser Ilyn, good day…" he squinted at the boy behind the desk. "Young Jaime?" He guessed.
Ilyn chuckled.
"Good try. He's my elder brother."
"Ah, young Callum then." The Septon nodded, dropping himself into a seat uncaring of the pitiful groan the wood gave out beneath him. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain why Ser Ilyn arranged this meeting between us?" Boros sent a respectful nod his way that made Ilyn puff up a bit with pride. The recognition of men like Boros was nearly as good as the recognition of his fellow knights had once been.
"Indeed, I won't waste your time." The boy smirked slightly at Septa Margot, who rolled her eyes. "Here." He stood up. "Each of you can have one of these, a gift from me to you." The boy carried over a pair of books from the stack to each of them.
Boros promptly flipped his open, not even surveying the blank cover, and his eyebrow rose almost up to his somehow not receding hairline.
"The Seven Pointed Star?" He asked, glancing back up at Callum with a calculating look. "What do you mean by this? Do you seek to join the church?"
"I dare not think my father would allow that," Callum replied, and Ilyn knew quite well he was correct. If nothing else a vow of celibacy would rather ruin Tywin's potential alliance with Dorne. "But I do hold to the Seven, and I wish to live a good life in the faith. Do you notice anything about those books?"
"Hmm?" Boros began to read, his eyes tracing the pages rapidly, but it was Septon Margot, who had been quieter, that spoke next.
"The letters are odd. Regimented. The lines are incredibly neat and consistent, and they're the same on every page." She paused for a moment. "Either this was copied by the steadiest hands in Westeros, or else it wasn't written by a man at all."
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