A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

knights always think
themselves invincible.
    Tyrion lingered after his cousin had slipped away. At the Warrior’s altar, he
used one candle to light another.
Watch over my brother, you bloody
bastard, he’s one of yours.
He lit a second candle to the Stranger, for
himself.
    That night, when the Red Keep was dark, Bronn arrived to find him sealing a
letter. “Take this to Ser Jacelyn Bywater.”

The dwarf dribbled hot golden wax down onto the parchment.
    â€œWhat does it say?” Bronn could not read, so he asked impudent
questions.
    â€œThat he’s to take fifty of his best swords and scout the roseroad.” Tyrion
pressed his seal into the soft wax.
    â€œStannis is more like to come up the kingsroad.”
    â€œOh, I know. Tell Bywater to disregard what’s in the letter and take his men
north. He’s to lay a trap along the Rosby road. Lord Gyles will depart for his
castle in a day or two, with a dozen men-at-arms, some servants, and my nephew.
Prince Tommen may be dressed as a page.”
    â€œYou want the boy brought back, is that it?”
    â€œNo. I want him taken on to the castle.” Removing the boy from the city was
one of his sister’s better notions, Tyrion had decided. At Rosby, Tommen would
be safe from the mob, and keeping him apart from his brother also made things
more difficult for Stannis; even if he took King’s Landing and executed
Joffrey, he’d still have a Lannister claimant to contend with. “Lord Gyles is
too sickly to run and too craven to fight. He’ll command his castellan to open
the gates. Once inside the walls, Bywater is to expel the garrison and hold
Tommen there safe. Ask him how he likes the sound of
Lord
Bywater.”
    â€œLord Bronn would sound better. I could grab the boy for you just as well.
I’ll dandle him on my knee and sing him nursery songs if there’s a lordship in
it.”
    â€œI need you here,” said Tyrion.
And I don’t trust you with

my nephew.
Should any ill befall Joffrey, the Lannister claim to the Iron
Throne would rest on
Tommen’s young shoulders. Ser Jacelyn’s gold cloaks would
defend the boy; Bronn’s sellswords were more apt to sell him to his
enemies.
    â€œWhat should the new lord do with the old one?”
    â€œWhatever he pleases, so long as he remembers to feed him. I don’t want him
dying.” Tyrion pushed away from the table. “My sister will send one of the
Kingsguard with the prince.”
    Bronn was not concerned. “The Hound is Joffrey’s dog, he won’t leave him.
Ironhand’s gold cloaks should be able to handle the others easy
enough.”
    â€œIf it comes to killing, tell Ser Jacelyn I won’t have it done in front of
Tommen.” Tyrion donned a heavy cloak of dark brown wool. “My nephew is
tenderhearted.”
    â€œAre you certain he’s a Lannister?”
    â€œI’m certain of nothing but winter and battle,” he said. “Come. I’m riding
with you part of the way.”
    â€œChataya’s?”
    â€œYou know me too well.”
    They left through a postern gate in the north wall. Tyrion put his heels into
his horse and clattered down Shadowblack Lane. A few furtive shapes darted into
alleys at the sound of hoofbeats on the cobbles, but no one dared accost them.
The council had extended his curfew; it was death to be taken on the streets
after the evenfall bells had sung. The measure had restored a degree of peace
to King’s Landing and quartered the number of corpses

found in the alleys of a morning, yet Varys said the people cursed him for it.
They should be thankful they have the breath to curse.
A pair of gold
cloaks confronted them as they were making their way along Coppersmith’s Wynd,
but when they realized whom they’d challenged they begged the Hand’s pardons and
waved them on. Bronn turned south for the Mud Gate and they parted
company.
    Tyrion rode on toward Chataya’s, but suddenly his patience deserted him. He
twisted in the saddle, scanning the street behind. There were no signs of
followers. Every window was dark or tightly shuttered. He heard nothing but the
wind swirling down the alleys.
If Cersei has someone stalking me tonight,
he must be disguised as a rat.
“Bugger it all,” he muttered. He was sick
of caution. Wheeling his horse around, he dug in his spurs.
If anyone’s
after me,