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made.â
The queen pulled free of the eunuchâs touch. âYou would not speak so if you
were women. Say what you will, my lords, but Joffrey is too proud to settle for
Renlyâs leavings. He will never consent.â
Tyrion shrugged. âWhen the king comes of age in three years, he may give
or withhold his consent as he pleases. Until then, you are his regent and I am
his Hand, and he will marry whomever we tell him to marry. Leavings or
no.â
Cerseiâs quiver was empty. âMake your offer then, but gods save you all if
Joff does not like this girl.â
âIâm so pleased we can agree,â Tyrion said. âNow, which of us shall go to
Bitterbridge? We must reach Ser Loras with our offer before his blood can
cool.â
âYou mean to send one of the council?â
âI can scarcely expect the Knight of Flowers to treat with Bronn or Shagga,
can I? The Tyrells are proud.â
His sister wasted no time trying to twist the situation to her advantage. âSer
Jacelyn Bywater is nobly born. Send him.â
Tyrion shook his head. âWe need someone who can do more than repeat our words
and fetch back a reply. Our envoy must speak for king and council and settle
the matter quickly.â
âThe Hand speaks with the kingâs voice.â Candlelight gleamed green as
wildfire in Cerseiâs eyes. âIf we send you, Tyrion, it will be as if Joffrey
went himself. And who better? You wield words as skillfully as Jaime wields a
sword.â
Are you that eager to get me out of the city, Cersei?
âYou are too
kind, sister, but it seems to me that a boyâs mother is better fitted to
arrange his marriage than any uncle. And you have a gift for winning friends
that I could never hope to match.â
Her eyes narrowed. âJoff needs me at his side.â
âYour Grace, my lord Hand,â said Littlefinger, âthe king needs both of
you here. Let me go in your stead.â
âYou?â
What gain does he see in this?
Tyrion wondered.
âI am of the kingâs council, yet not the kingâs blood, so I would make a poor
hostage. I knew Ser Loras passing well when he was here at court, and gave him
no cause to mislike me. Mace Tyrell bears me no enmity that I know of, and I
flatter myself that I am not unskilled in negotiation.â
He has us.
Tyrion did not trust Petyr Baelish, nor did he want the
man out of his sight, yet what other choice was left him? It must be
Littlefinger or Tyrion himself, and he knew full well that if he left Kingâs
Landing for any length of time, all that he had managed to accomplish would be
undone. âThere is fighting between here and Bitterbridge,â he said
cautiously. âAnd you can be past certain that Lord Stannis will be dispatching
his own shepherds to gather in his brotherâs wayward lambs.â
âIâve never been frightened of shepherds. Itâs the sheep who trouble me.
Still, I suppose an escort might be in order.â
âI can spare a hundred gold cloaks,â Tyrion said.
âFive hundred.â
âThree hundred.â
âAnd forty moreâtwenty knights with as many squires. If I arrive
without a knightly tail, the Tyrells will think me of small
account.â
That was true enough. âAgreed.â
âIâll include Horror and Slobber in my party, and send them
on to their lord father afterward. A gesture of goodwill. We need Paxter
Redwyne, heâs Mace Tyrellâs oldest friend, and a great power in his own
right.â
âAnd a traitor,â the queen said, balking. âThe Arbor would have declared for
Renly with all the rest, except that Redwyne knew full well his whelps would
suffer for it.â
âRenly is dead, Your Grace,â Littlefinger pointed out, âand neither Stannis
nor Lord Paxter will have forgotten how Redwyne galleys closed the sea during
the siege of Stormâs End. Restore the twins and perchance we may win Redwyneâs
love.â
Cersei remained unconvinced. âThe Others can keep his love, I want his swords
and sails. Holding tight to those twins is the best way to make certain that
weâll have them.â
Tyrion had the answer. âThen let us send Ser Hobber back to the Arbor and keep
Ser Horas here. Lord Paxter ought to be clever enough to riddle out the meaning
of that, I should think.â
The suggestion was carried
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