A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

The servants here were few and old and kept their voices down so as not to excite the young lord. There were no horses on the mountain, no hounds to bark and growl, no knights training in the yard. Even the footsteps of the guards seemed strangely muffled as they walked the pale stone halls. She could hear the wind moaning and sighing round the towers, but that was all. When she had first come to Eyrie, there had been the murmur of Alyssa’s Tears as well, but the waterfall was frozen now. Gretchel said it would stay silent till the spring.
    She found Lord Robert alone in the Morning Hall above the kitchens, pushing a wooden spoon listlessly through a big bowl of porridge and honey. “I wanted eggs,” he complained when he saw her. “I wanted
three
eggs boiled soft, and some back bacon.”
    They had no eggs, no more than they had bacon. The Eyrie’s granaries held sufficient oats and corn and barley to feed them for a year, but they depended on a bastard girl named Mya Stone to bring fresh foodstuffs up from the valley floor. With the Lords Declarant encamped at the foot of the mountain there was no way for Mya to get through. Lord Belmore, first of the six to reach the Gates, had sent a raven to tell Littlefinger that no more food would go up to the Eyrie until he sent Lord Robert down. It was not quite a siege, not as yet, but it was the next best thing.
    â€œYou can have eggs when Mya comes, as many as you like,” Alayne promised the little lordling. “She’ll bring eggs and butter and melons, all sorts of tasty things.”
    The boy was unappeased. “I wanted eggs
today.
”
    â€œSweetrobin, there are no eggs, you know that. Please, eat your porridge, it’s very nice.” She ate a spoonful of her own.
    Robert pushed his spoon across the bowl and back, but never brought it to his lips. “I am not hungry,” he decided. “I want to go back to bed. I never slept last night. I heard
singing.
Maester Colemon gave me dreamwine but I could still hear it.”
    Alayne put down her spoon. “If there had been singing, I should have heard it too. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”
    â€œNo, it
wasn’t
a dream.” Tears filled his eyes. “Marillion was singing again. Your father says he’s dead, but he
isn’t.
”
    â€œHe is.” It frightened her to hear him talk like this.
Bad enough that he is small and sickly, what if he is mad as well?
“Sweetrobin, he
is.
Marillion loved your lady mother too much and could not live with what he’d done to her, so he walked into the sky.” Alayne had not seen the body, no more than Robert had, but she did not doubt the fact of the singer’s death. “He’s gone, truly.”
    â€œBut I hear him every night. Even when I close the shutters and put a
pillow
on my head. Your father should have cut his tongue out. I
told
him to, but he wouldn’t.”
    He needed a tongue to confess.
“Be a good boy and eat your porridge,” Alayne pleaded. “Please? For me?”
    â€œI don’t want porridge.” Robert flung his spoon across the hall. It bounced off a hanging tapestry, and left a smear of porridge upon a white silk moon. “The
lord
wants
eggs!
”
    â€œThe lord shall eat porridge and be thankful for it,” said Petyr’s voice, behind them.
    Alayne turned, and saw him in the doorway arch with Maester Colemon at his side. “You should heed the Lord Protector, my lord,” the maester said. “Your lord’s bannermen are coming up the mountain to pay you homage, so you will need all your strength.”
    Robert rubbed at his left eye with a knuckle. “Send them away. I don’t
want
them. If they come, I’ll make them fly.”
    â€œYou tempt me sorely, my lord, but I fear I promised them safe conduct,” said Petyr. “In any case, it is too late to turn them back. By now they may have climbed as far as Stone.”
    â€œWhy won’t they leave us be?” wailed Alayne. “We never did them any harm. What do they
want
of us?”
    â€œJust Lord Robert. Him, and the Vale.” Petyr smiled. “There will be eight of them. Lord Nestor is showing them up, and they have Lyn Corbray with them. Ser Lyn is not the sort of man to stay away when blood is in the offing.”
    His words did little to soothe her fears. Lyn Corbray had slain almost as many men in duels as he had in battle.