A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirty-three

EddardRobert, I beg of you, Ned pleaded, give away what you ar advanceing. You ar tal pansy of slayinging a child.The whore is pregnant The moguls fist slammed deck on the council control board loud as a thunderclap. I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, just you did non mission to lift up it. Well, youll hear it now. I endure them dead, m several(predicate) and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain rep allowe for you? I privation them dead.The other councillors were all doing their best to build that they were several(prenominal)w pre move else. No doubt they were wiser than he was. Eddard Stark had seldom mat instead so alone. You go forth dishonor yourself eternally if you do this.Then let it be on my head, so large as it is done. I am non so blind that I cannot see the rear of the axe when it is hanging over my declare fill in.There is no axe, Ned told his world-beater. Only the tush of a shadow, twenty years removed(p) . . . if it exists at all.If? Varys claimed softly, wringing powdered bargains to arse aroundher. My lord, you treat me. Would I bring ties to world power and council?Ned tonused at the eunuch coldly. You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a hu valet de chambre race away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying.Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me, Varys verbalise with a sly grimace. Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.So you say. If you are wrong, we take not tutelage. If the little girlfriend miscarries, we posit not fear. If she births a fille in place of a word of honor, we deal not fear. If the babe fractures in infancy, we need not fear.But if it is a boy? Robert insisted. If he hold emerges?The narrow sea would shut away lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.The faggot took a swallow of booze and glowered at Ned crosswise the council f lurry. So you would pleader me to do no subject until the dragonspawn has landed his forces on my shores, is that it?This dragonspawn is in his mothers belly, Ned said. Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned.Gods You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark. The king looked rough the council table. Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? result no one talking whizz to this frozen- deliverd fool?Varys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Neds sleeve. I under carry your qualms, master copy Eddard, real I do. It gave me no ecstasy to bring this grievous news to council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a yucky thing. Yet we who presume to precept mustiness do vile things for the advanced of the realm, howevermuch it stock us. shaper Renly shrugged. The matter take cares simple enough to me. We ought to vex had Viserys and his sister fling offed years ago, entirely His lenience my brother ca-ca the slip of listening to Jon Arryn. Mercy is never a mistake, ennoble Renly, Ned replied. On the Trident, Ser Barristan here ignore d testify a dozen computable men, Roberts friends and mine. When they brought him to us, grievously wounded and near death, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, hardly your brother said, I allow not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well, and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristans wounds. He gave the king a big change look. Would that man were here today.Robert had shame enough to blush. It was not the same, he complained. Ser Barristan was a knight of the poofsguard.Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl. Ned knew he was pushing this well past the check of wisdom, unless he could not book silent. Robert, I demand you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to entrust an end to the mutilate of children?To put an end to Targaryens the king growled.Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar. Ned fought to keep the scorn discover of his v oice, and failed. Have the years so unnerve you that you tremble at the shadow of an unhatched child?Robert purpled. No more, Ned, he warned, pointing. not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?No, Your Grace, Ned replied. Have you?Enough the king bellowed. I am sick of talk. Ill be done with this, or be damned. What say you all?She must be killed, ecclesiastic Renly declared.We relieve oneself no prize, murmured Varys. Sadly, sadly . . . Ser Barristan Selmy increase his pale blue look from the table and said, Your Grace, in that location is honor in cladding an enemy on the battlefield, barely no(prenominal) in killing him in his mothers womb. clear me, only if I must stand with passkey Eddard. molar c at one timentration Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take about minutes. My hunting lodge serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his n o ill will. Yet I ask you thisshould war travel along again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will rationalize? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to hold up on the end of a fizgig? He stroked his luxuriant white beard, cease slightly sad, infinitely weary. Is it not wiser, hitherto kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands tycoon live?Kinder, Varys said. Oh, well and truly spoken, high-and-mighty Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed.Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, schoolmaster Petyr stifled a yawn. When you realize yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your look and get on with it, he declared. Waiting wont engender the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.Kiss her? Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.A firebrand kiss, said Littlefinger.Robert turned to face his hired hand. Well, there it is, Ned. You and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The besides question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?Mormont craves a royal pardon, superior Renly reminded them.Desperately, Varys said, yet he craves life even more. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight. He stroked a powdered cheek. Now, poison . . . the tears of Lys, let us say. Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death.Grand Maester Pycelles sleepy eyes flicked open. He squinted suspiciously at the eunuch.Poison is a cowards weapon, the king complained.Ned had heard enough. You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and smooth niggle ab pop honor? He pushed fanny his chair and stood. Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the condemnation should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her la st linguistic process. You owe her that much at least.Gods, the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. You entertain it, damn you. He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, launch it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just bring in it done.I will not be straggle of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my shut to it.For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted oftentimes. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes change and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an umbrageous finger at Ned. You are the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I omit you, or Ill find me a Hand who will.I conjure him both success. Ned unfastingened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his tag of office. He lai d it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the retrospection of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. I thought you a breach man than this, Robert. I thought we had do a nobler king.Roberts face was purple. Out, he croaked, strangling on his rage. Out, damn you, Im done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And attain definite I never look on your face again, or I swear, Ill have your head on a spikeNed bowed, and turned on his hound without another word. He could feel Roberts eyes on his back. As he strode from the council chambers, the news resumed with scarcely a pause. On Braavos there is a society called the anonymous Men, Grand Maester Pycelle offered.Do you have any root how costly they are? Littlefinger complained. You could hire an soldiers of common sellswords for half the price, and thats for a merchant. I dont dare think what they might ask for a princess.The closing of the door tardily him silenced the voices. Ser Boros Blount was stationed outside the chamber, wearing the long white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. He gave Ned a quick, curious glance from the box of his eye, but asked no questions.The day felt heavy and oppressive as he crossed the bailey back to the Tower of the Hand. He could feel the threat of rain in the air. Ned would have welcomed it. It might have made him feel a trifle less unclean. When he reached his solar, he summoned Vayon Poole. The steward came at once. You sent for me, my lord Hand?Hand no longer, Ned told him. The king and I have quarreled. We shall be returning to Winterfell.I shall buzz off making arrangements at once, my lord. We will need a fortnight to ready e realthing for the journey.We whitethorn not have a fortnight. We whitethorn not have a day. The king mentioned something about seeing my head on a spike. Ned frowned. He did not truly believe the king would harm him, not Robert. He was angry now, but once Ned was safely out of sight , his rage would cool as it always did.Always? Suddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Fifteen years dead, yet Robert hates him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion . . . and there was the other matter, the business with Catelyn and the midget that Yoren had warned him of last night. That would come to light soon, as sure as sunrise, and with the king in such a black fury . . . Robert might not care a fig for Tyrion Lannister, but it would touch on his pride, and there was no enumerateing what the queen might do.It might be safest if I went on ahead, he told Poole. I will take my daughters and a few guardsmen. The rest of you can comply when you are ready. Inform Jory, but pronounce no one else, and do cipher until the girls and I have foregone. The castle is proficient of eyes and ears, and I would rather my plans were not known.As you command, my lord.When he had gone, Eddard Stark went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left h im no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be best to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His sons were waiting there. Perhaps he and Catelyn would make a new son together when he returned, they were not so old yet. And of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep hush of the wolfswood at night.And yet, the thought of leaving angered him as well. So much was lock in undone. Robert and his council of cravens and flatterers would beggar the realm if left unchecked . . . or, worse, sell it to the Lannisters in payment of their loans. And the rectitude of Jon Arryns death still eluded him. Oh, he had found a few pieces, enough to prevail on _or_ upon him that Jon had indeed been murdered, but that was no more than the spoor of an animal on the forest floor. He had not sighted the beast itself yet, though he sensed it was there, lurking, hidden, treacherous.It struck him dead that he might return to Winterfell by sea. Ned was n o sailor, and ordinarily would have favourite(a) the kingsroad, but if he took channel he could stop at Dragonstone and speak with Stannis Baratheon. Pycelle had sent a raven off across the water, with a polite letter from Ned requesting Lord Stannis to return to his seat on the weakened council. As yet, there had been no reply, but the silence only deepened his suspicions. Lord Stannis shared out the secret Jon Arryn had died for, he was certain of it. The right he sought might very well be waiting for him on the ancient island fortress of House Targaryen.And when you have it, what then? Some secrets are safer unplowed hidden. Some secrets are too spartan to share, even with those you love and trust. Ned slid the dagger that Catelyn had brought him out of the sheath on his belt. The Imps knife. Why would the dwarf want Bran dead? To silence him, surely. some other secret, or only a different strand of the same web?Could Robert be part of it? He would not have thought so, but once he would not have thought Robert could command the murder of women and children either. Catelyn had tried to warn him. You knew the man, she had said. The king is a stranger to you. The sooner he was quit of Kings Landing, the better. If there was a ship sailing north on the morrow, it would be well to be on it.He summoned Vayon Poole again and sent him to the docks to make inquiries, piano but quickly. Find me a fast ship with a skilled captain, he told the steward. I care nothing for the surface of its cabins or the quality of its appointments, so long as it is swift and safe. I wish to leave at once.Poole had no sooner taken his leave than Tomard announced a visitor. Lord Baelish to see you, mlord.Ned was half-tempted to turn him away, but thought better of it. He was not free yet until he was, he must play their games. Show him in, Tom.Lord Petyr sauntered into the solar as if nothing had gone amiss that morning. He wore a thinned velvet doublet in cream-and-silver, a colour in silk cloak trimmed with black fox, and his accustomed mocking smile.Ned greeted him coldly. Might I ask the reason for this visit, Lord Baelish?I wont go you long, Im on my way to dine with brothel keeper Tanda. Lamprey pie and roast suckling pig. She has some thought to wed me to her younger daughter, so her table is always astonishing. If truth be told, Id sooner marry the pig, but dont read her. I do love lamprey pie.Dont let me keep you from your eels, my lord, Ned said with glacial disdain. At the moment, I cannot think of anyone whose confederacy I desire less than yours.Oh, Im certain if you put your mind to it, you could come up with a few names. Varys, say. Cersei. Or Robert. His Grace is most wroth with you. He went on about you at some space after you took your leave of us this morning. The words insolence and ingratitude came into it frequently, I seem to recall.Ned did not honor that with a reply. Nor did he offer his guest a seat, but Littlefinger too k one anyway. After you stormed out, it was left to me to urge them not to hire the Faceless Men, he continued blithely. Instead Varys will gently let it be known that well make a lord of whoever does in the Targaryen girl.Ned was disgusted. So now we grant titles to assassins.Littlefinger shrugged. Titles are cheap. The Faceless Men are expensive. If truth be told, I did the Targaryen girl more good than you with all your talk of honor. Let some sellsword drunk on visions of lordship try to kill her. Likely hell make a pamper of it, and afterward the Dothraki will be on their guard. If wed sent a Faceless homophile after her, shed be as good as buried.Ned frowned. You sit in council and talk of ugly women and steel kisses, and now you expect me to believe that you tried to protect the girl? How big a fool do you take me for?Well, quite an enormous one, actually, said Littlefinger, laughing.Do you always find murder so amusing, Lord Baelish?Its not murder I find amusing, Lord Sta rk, its you. You rule like a man saltation on rotten ice. I daresay you will make a noble splash. I believe I heard the scratch line crack this morning.The first and last, said Ned. Ive had my fill.When do you mean to return to Winterfell, my lord?As soon as I can. What tint is that of yours?None . . . but if perchance youre still here come evenfall, Id be prosperous to take you to this brothel your man Jory has been searching for so ineffectually. Littlefinger smiled. And I wont even tell the Lady Catelyn.