Arya unsheathed Needle. “This is good steel, so it’s realer than yours.”  The Bull shook his head. “Promise not to cry if I cut you?”  “I’ll promise if you will.” She turned sideways, into her water dancer’s stance, but the Bull did not move. He was looking at something behind her. “What’s wrong?”  “Gold cloaks.” His face closed up tight.  It couldn’t be, Arya thought, but when she glanced back, they were riding up the kingsroad, six in the black ringmail and golden cloaks of the City Watch. One was an officer; he wore a black enamel breastplate ornamented with four golden disks. They drew up in front of the inn.  Look with your eyes, Syrio’s voice seemed to whisper. Her eyes saw white lather under their saddles; the horses had been ridden long and hard. Calm as still water, she took the Bull by the arm and drew him back behind a tall flowering hedge.  “What is it?” he asked. “What are you doing? Let go.”  “Quiet as a shadow,” she whispered, pulling him down.  Some of Yoren’s other charges were sitting in front of the bathhouse, waiting their turn at a tub. “You men,” one of the gold cloaks shouted. “You the ones left to take the black?”  “We might be,” came the cautious answer.  “We’d rather join you boys,” old Reysen said. “We hear it’s cold on that Wall.”  The gold cloak officer dismounted. “I have a warrant for a certain boy-”  Yoren stepped out of the inn, fingering his tangled black beard. “Who is it wants this boy?”  The other gold cloaks were dismounting to stand beside their horses. “Why are we hiding?” the Bull whispered.  “It’s me they want,” Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. “You be quiet.”  “The queen wants him, old man, not that it’s your concern,” the officer said, drawing a ribbon from his belt. “Here, Her Grace’s seal and warrant.”  Behind the hedge, the Bull shook his head doubtfully. “Why would the queen want you, Arry?”  She punched his shoulder. “Be quiet!”   Yoren fingered the warrant ribbon with its blob of golden wax. “Pretty.” He spit. “Thing is, the boy’s in the Night’s Watch now. What he done back in the city don’t mean piss-all.”  “The queen’s not interested in your views, old man, and neither am I,” the officer said. “I’ll have the boy.”  Arya thought about running, but she knew she wouldn’t get far on her donkey when the gold cloaks had horses. And she was so tired of running. She’d run when Ser Meryn came for her, and again when they killed her father. If she was a real water dancer, she would go out there with Needle and kill all of them, and never run from anyone ever again.  “You’ll have no one,” Yoren said stubbornly. “There’s laws on such things.”  The gold cloak drew a shortsword. “Here’s your law.”  Yoren looked at the blade. “That’s no law, just a sword. Happens I got one too.”  The officer smiled. “Old fool. I have five men with me.”  Yoren spat. “Happens I got thirty.”  The gold cloak laughed. &ldq............