A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

would never survive the day Jaime Lannister returned to

King’s Landing. The only question would be whether Jaime cut him down in a
jealous rage, or Cersei murdered him first to keep Jaime from finding out.
Tyrion’s silver was on Cersei.
    A restlessness was on him, and Tyrion knew full well he would not get back to
sleep tonight.
Not here, in any case.
He found Podrick Payne asleep
in a chair outside the door of the solar, and shook him by the shoulder.
“Summon Bronn, and then run down to the stables and have two horses
saddled.”
    The squire’s eyes were cloudy with sleep. “Horses.”
    â€œThose big brown animals that love apples, I’m sure you’ve seen them. Four
legs and a tail. But Bronn first.”
    The sellsword was not long in appearing. “Who pissed in your soup?” he
demanded.
    â€œCersei, as ever. You’d think I’d be used to the taste by now, but never mind.
My gentle sister seems to have mistaken me for Ned Stark.”
    â€œI hear he was taller.”
    â€œNot after Joff took off his head. You ought to have dressed more warmly, the
night is chill.”
    â€œAre we going somewhere?”
    â€œAre all sellswords as clever as you?”
    The city streets were dangerous, but with Bronn beside him Tyrion felt safe
enough. The guards let him out a postern gate in the north wall, and they rode
down Shadowblack Lane to the foot of Aegon’s High Hill, and thence onto Pigrun
Alley, past rows of shuttered windows and tall timber-and-stone buildings whose
upper

stories leaned out so far over the street they almost kissed. The moon seemed
to follow them as they went, playing peek-and-sneak among the chimneys. They
encountered no one but a lone old crone, carrying a dead cat by the tail. She
gave them a fearful look, as if she were afraid they might try to steal her
dinner, and slunk off into the shadows without a word.
    Tyrion reflected on the men who had been Hand before him, who had proved no
match for his sister’s wiles.
How could they be? Men like
that . . . too honest to live, too noble to shit, Cersei
devours such fools every morning when she breaks her fast. The only way to
defeat my sister is to play her own game, and that was something the Lords
Stark and Arryn would never do.
Small wonder that both of them were dead,
while Tyrion Lannister had never felt more alive. His stunted legs might make
him a comic grotesque at a harvest ball, but
this
dance he
knew.
    Despite the hour, the brothel was crowded. Chataya greeted them pleasantly and
escorted them to the common room. Bronn went upstairs with a dark-eyed girl
from Dorne, but Alayaya was busy entertaining. “She will be so pleased to know
you’ve come,” said Chataya. “I will see that the turret room is made ready
for you. Will my lord take a cup of wine while he waits?”
    â€œI will,” he said.
    The wine was poor stuff compared to the vintages from the Arbor the house
normally served. “You must forgive us, my lord,” Chataya said. “I cannot
find good wine at any price of late.”
    â€œYou are not alone in that, I fear.”
    Chataya commiserated with him a moment, then excused herself and glided
off.
A handsome woman,
Tyrion reflected as he watched her go. He had
seldom seen such elegance and dignity in a whore. Though to be sure, she saw
herself more as a kind of priestess.
Perhaps that is the secret. It is not
what we do, so much as why we do it.
Somehow that thought comforted
him.
    A few of the other patrons were giving him sideways looks. The last time he
ventured out, a man had spit on him . . . well, had tried to.
Instead he’d spit on Bronn, and in future would do his spitting without
teeth.
    â€œIs milord feeling unloved?” Dancy slid into his lap and nibbled at his ear.
“I have a cure for that.”
    Smiling, Tyrion shook his head. “You are too beautiful for words, sweetling,
but I’ve grown fond of Alayaya’s remedy.”
    â€œYou’ve never
tried
mine. Milord never chooses anyone but ’Yaya.
She’s good but I’m better, don’t you want to see?”
    â€œNext time, perhaps.” Tyrion had no doubt that Dancy would be a lively
handful. She was pug-nosed and bouncy, with freckles and a mane of thick red
hair that tumbled down past her waist. But he had Shae waiting for him at the
manse.
    Giggling, she put her