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A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

Titel: A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: George R.R. Martin
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than bread, he reflected.
    â€œThere is no food coming in, is there?” he said to Vylarr.
    â€œLittle enough,” the captain admitted. “With the war in the riverlands and
Lord Renly raising rebels in Highgarden, the roads are closed to south and
west.”
    â€œAnd what has my good sister done about this?”
    â€œShe is taking steps to restore the king’s peace,” Vylarr assured him. “Lord
Slynt has tripled the size of the City Watch, and the queen has put a thousand
craftsmen to work on our defenses. The stonemasons are strengthening the walls,
carpenters are building scorpions and catapults by the hundred, fletchers are
making arrows, the smiths are forging blades, and the Alchemists’ Guild has
pledged ten thousand jars of wildfire.”
    Tyrion shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He was pleased that Cersei had not
been idle, but wildfire was treacherous stuff, and ten thousand jars were
enough to turn all of King’s Landing into cinders. “Where has my sister found
the coin to pay for all of this?” It was no secret that King Robert had left
the crown vastly in debt, and alchemists were seldom mistaken for
altruists.
    â€œLord Littlefinger always finds a way, my lord. He has imposed a tax on those
wishing to enter the city.”
    â€œYes, that would work,” Tyrion said, thinking,
Clever. Clever and
cruel.
Tens of thousands had fled the fighting for the supposed safety of
King’s Landing. He had seen them on the kingsroad, troupes of mothers and
children and anxious fathers who

had gazed on his horses and wagons with covetous eyes. Once they reached the
city they would doubtless pay over all they had to put those high comforting
walls between them and the war . . . though they might think
twice if they knew about the wildfire.
    The inn beneath the sign of the broken anvil stood within sight of those walls,
near the Gate of the Gods where they had entered that morning. As they rode
into its courtyard, a boy ran out to help Tyrion down from his horse. “Take
your men back to the castle,” he told Vylarr. “I’ll be spending the night
here.”
    The captain looked dubious. “Will you be safe, my lord?”
    â€œWell, as to that, Captain, when I left the inn this morning it was full of
Black Ears. One is never quite safe when Chella daughter of Cheyk is about.”
Tyrion waddled toward the door, leaving Vylarr to puzzle at his
meaning.
    A gust of merriment greeted him as he shoved into the inn’s common room. He
recognized Chella’s throaty chuckle and the lighter music of Shae’s laughter.
The girl was seated by the hearth, sipping wine at a round wooden table with
three of the Black Ears he’d left to guard her and a plump man whose back was
to him. The innkeeper, he assumed . . . until Shae called Tyrion
by name and the intruder rose. “My good lord, I am
so
pleased to see
you,” he gushed, a soft eunuch’s smile on his powdered face.
    Tyrion stumbled. “Lord Varys. I had not thought to see you here.”
The
Others take him, how did he find them so quickly?
    â€œForgive me if I intrude,” Varys said. “I was taken by a sudden urge to meet
your young lady.”
    â€œYoung lady,” Shae repeated, savoring the words. “You’re half right,
m’lord. I’m young.”
    Eighteen,
Tyrion thought.
Eighteen, and a whore, but quick of
wit, nimble as a cat between the sheets, with large dark eyes and fine black
hair and a sweet, soft, hungry little mouth . . . and mine!
Damn you, eunuch.
“I fear I’m the intruder, Lord Varys,” he said with
forced courtesy. “When I came in, you were in the midst of some
merriment.”
    â€œM’lord Varys complimented Chella on her ears and said she must have killed
many men to have such a fine necklace,” Shae explained. It grated on him to
hear her call Varys
m’lord
in that tone; that was what she called him
in their pillow play. “And Chella told him only cowards kill the
vanquished.”
    â€œBraver to leave the man alive, with a chance to cleanse his shame by winning
back his ear,” explained Chella, a small dark woman whose grisly neckware was
hung with no less than forty-six dried, wrinkled ears. Tyrion had counted them
once. “Only so can you prove you do not fear your enemies.”
    Shae hooted.

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