A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

vault full of water, but even
so . . . by rights they ought to have been destroyed, but so
many of our masters were murdered during the Sack of King’s Landing, the few
acolytes who remained were unequal to the task. And much of the stock we made
for Aerys was lost. Only last year, two hundred jars were discovered in a
storeroom beneath the Great Sept of Baelor. No one could recall how they came
there, but I’m sure I do not need to tell you that the High Septon was beside
himself with terror. I myself saw that they were safely moved. I had a cart
filled with sand, and sent our most able acolytes. We worked only by night,
we—”
    â€œâ€”did a splendid job, I have no doubt.” Tyrion placed the jar he’d
been holding back among its fellows. They covered the table, standing in
orderly rows of four and marching away into the subterranean dimness. And there
were other tables beyond, many other tables. “These, ah,
fruits
of
the late King Aerys, can they still be used?”
    â€œOh, yes, most certainly . . . but
carefully,
my
lord, ever so carefully. As it ages, the substance grows ever more, hmmmm,
fickle,
let us say. Any flame will set it afire. Any spark. Too

much heat and jars will blaze up of their own accord. It is not wise to let
them sit in sunlight, even for a short time. Once the fire begins within, the
heat causes the substance to expand violently, and the jars shortly fly to
pieces. If other jars should happen to be stored in the same vicinity, those go
up as well, and so—”
    â€œHow many jars do you have at present?”
    â€œThis morning the Wisdom Munciter told me that we had seven thousand eight
hundred and forty. That count includes four thousand jars from King Aerys’s
day, to be sure.”
    â€œOur overripe fruits?”
    Hallyne bobbed his head. “Wisdom Malliard believes we shall be able to provide
a full ten thousand jars, as was promised the queen. I concur.” The pyromancer
looked indecently pleased with that prospect.
    Assuming our enemies give you the time.
The pyromancers kept their
recipe for wildfire a closely guarded secret, but Tyrion knew that it was a
lengthy, dangerous, and time-consuming process. He had assumed the promise of
ten thousand jars was a wild boast, like that of the bannerman who vows to
marshal ten thousand swords for his lord and shows up on the day of battle with
a hundred and two.
If they can truly give us ten
thousand . . .
    He did not know whether he ought to be delighted or terrified.
Perhaps a
smidge of both.
“I trust that your guild brothers are not engaging in any
unseemly haste, Wisdom. We do not want ten thousand jars of defective wildfire,
nor even one . . .

and we most certainly do not want any mishaps.”
    â€œThere will be no mishaps, my lord Hand. The substance is prepared by trained
acolytes in a series of bare stone cells, and each jar is removed by an
apprentice and carried down here the instant it is ready. Above each work cell
is a room filled entirely with sand. A protective spell has been laid on the
floors, hmmm, most powerful. Any fire in the cell below causes the floors to
fall away, and the sand smothers the blaze at once.”
    â€œNot to mention the careless acolyte.” By
spell
Tyrion imagined
Hallyne meant
clever trick.
He thought he would like to inspect one
of these false-ceilinged cells to see how it worked, but this was not the time.
Perhaps when the war was won.
    â€œMy brethren are never careless,” Hallyne insisted. “If I may be, hmmmm,
frank . . .
”
    â€œOh, do.”
    â€œThe substance flows through my veins, and lives in the heart of every
pyromancer. We respect its power. But the common soldier, hmmmm, the crew of
one of the queen’s spitfires, say, in the unthinking frenzy of
battle . . . any little mistake can bring catastrophe. That
cannot be said too often. My father often told King Aerys as much, as
his
father told old King Jaehaerys.”
    â€œThey must have listened,” Tyrion said. “If they had burned the city down,
someone would have told me. So your counsel is that we had best be
careful?”
    â€œBe
very
careful,” said Hallyne. “Be
very very
careful.”
    â€œThese clay jars . . . do you have an ample supply?”
    â€œWe do, my lord, and thank you for asking.”
    â€œYou won’t mind if