A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

from the Summer Isles
to keep her company, silks and silver and gemstones to adorn her, guards to
protect her. And yet she seemed restive. She wanted to be with him more, she
told him; she wanted to serve him and help him. “You help me most here,
between the sheets,” he told her one night after their loving as he lay beside
her, his head pillowed against her breast, his groin aching with a sweet
soreness. She made no reply, save with her eyes. He could see there that it was
not what she’d wanted to hear.
    Sighing, Tyrion started to reach for the wine again, then remembered Lord Janos
and pushed the flagon away. “It does seem my sister was telling the truth
about Stark’s death. We have my nephew to thank for that madness.”
    â€œKing Joffrey gave the command. Janos Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne carried it out,
swiftly, without hesitation . . .”
    â€œ. . . almost as if they had expected it. Yes, we have been over
this ground before, without profit. A folly.”
    â€œWith the City Watch in hand, my lord, you are well placed to see to it that
His Grace commits no further . . . follies? To be sure, there
is still the queen’s household guard to consider . . .”
    â€œThe red cloaks?” Tyrion shrugged. “Vylarr’s loyalty is to

Casterly Rock. He knows I am here with my father’s authority. Cersei would find
it hard to use his men against me . . . besides, they are only
a hundred. I have half again as many men of my own.
And
six thousand
gold cloaks, if Bywater is the man you claim.”
    â€œYou will find Ser Jacelyn to be courageous, honorable,
obedient . . . and most grateful.”
    â€œTo whom, I wonder?” Tyrion did not trust Varys, though there was no denying
his value. He knew things, beyond a doubt. “Why
are
you so helpful,
my lord Varys?” he asked, studying the man’s soft hands, the bald powdered
face, the slimy little smile.
    â€œYou are the Hand. I serve the realm, the king, and you.”
    â€œAs you served Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark?”
    â€œI served Lord Arryn and Lord Stark as best I could. I was saddened and
horrified by their most untimely deaths.”
    â€œThink how
I
feel. I’m like to be next.”
    â€œOh, I think not,” Varys said, swirling the wine in his cup. “Power is a
curious thing, my lord. Perchance you have considered the riddle I posed you
that day in the inn?”
    â€œIt has crossed my mind a time or two,” Tyrion admitted. “The king, the
priest, the rich man—who lives and who dies? Who will the swordsman
obey? It’s a riddle without an answer, or rather, too many answers. All depends
on the man with the sword.”
    â€œAnd yet he is no one,” Varys said. “He has neither crown nor gold nor favor
of the gods, only a piece of pointed steel.”
    â€œThat piece of steel is the power of life and death.”
    â€œJust so . . . yet if it is the swordsmen who rule us in
truth,

why do we pretend our kings hold the power? Why should a strong man with a
sword
ever
obey a child king like Joffrey, or a wine-sodden oaf like his father?”
    â€œBecause these child kings and drunken oafs can call other strong men, with
other swords.”
    â€œThen these other swordsmen have the true power. Or do they? Whence came their
swords? Why do
they
obey?” Varys smiled. “Some say knowledge is
power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives
from law. Yet that day on the steps of Baelor’s Sept, our godly High Septon and
the lawful Queen Regent and your ever-so-knowledgeable servant were as
powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark,
do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the
sword? Or . . . another?”
    Tyrion cocked his head sideways. “Did you mean to answer your damned riddle,
or only to make my head ache worse?”
    Varys smiled. “Here, then. Power resides where men
believe
it
resides. No more and no less.”
    â€œSo power is a mummer’s trick?”
    â€œA shadow on the wall,” Varys murmured, “yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes
a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”
    Tyrion smiled. “Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you
yet, but I think I’d feel sad about