A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

than I knew,
Catelyn thought.
His lords
all saw the sense in his battle plans, why was I so blind? My brother is not
the little boy I remember, no more than Robb is.
    She waited until evening before going to pay her call upon Ser Cleos Frey,
reasoning that the longer she delayed, the drunker he was likely to be. As she
entered the tower cell, Ser Cleos stumbled to his knees. “My lady, I knew
naught of any escape. The Imp said a Lannister must needs have a Lannister
escort, on my oath as a knight—”
    â€œArise, ser.” Catelyn seated herself. “I know no grandson of Walder Frey
would be an oathbreaker.”
Unless it served his purpose.
“You
brought peace terms, my brother said.”
    â€œI did.” Ser Cleos lurched to his feet. She was pleased to see how unsteady
he was.
    â€œTell me,” she commanded, and he did.
    When he was done, Catelyn sat frowning. Edmure had been right, these were no
terms at all, except . . . “Lannister will exchange Arya and
Sansa for his brother?”
    â€œYes. He sat on the Iron Throne and swore it.”
    â€œBefore witnesses?”
    â€œBefore all the court, my lady. And the gods as well. I said as much to
Ser Edmure, but he told me it was not possible, that His Grace Robb would never
consent.”
    â€œHe told you true.” She could not even say that Robb was wrong. Arya and
Sansa were children. The Kingslayer, alive and free, was as dangerous as any
man in the realm. That road led nowhere. “Did you see my girls? Are they
treated well?”
    Ser Cleos hesitated. “I . . . yes, they
seemed . . .”
    He is fumbling for a lie,
Catelyn realized,
but the wine has
fuddled his wits.
“Ser Cleos,” she said coolly, “you forfeited the
protection of your peace banner when your men played us false. Lie to me, and
you’ll hang from the walls beside them. Believe that. I shall ask you once
more
—did you see my daughters?
”
    His brow was damp with sweat. “I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told
me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn,
as it were.”
    Sansa, but not Arya.
That might mean anything. Arya had always been
harder to tame. Perhaps Cersei was reluctant to parade her in open court for
fear of what she might say or do. They might have her locked safely out of
sight.
Or they might have killed her.
Catelyn shoved the thought
away. “
His
terms, you said . . . yet Cersei is Queen
Regent.”
    â€œTyrion spoke for both of them. The queen was not there. She was indisposed
that day, I was told.”
    â€œCurious.” Catelyn thought back to that terrible trek through the Mountains
of the Moon, and the way Tyrion Lannister

had somehow seduced that sellsword from her service to his own.
The dwarf
is too clever by half.
She could not imagine how he had survived the high
road after Lysa had sent him from the Vale, yet it did not surprise her.
He had no part in Ned’s murder, at the least. And he came to my defense
when the clansmen attacked us. If I could trust his
word . . .
    She opened her hands to look down at the scars across her fingers.
His
dagger’s marks,
she reminded herself.
His dagger, in the hand of the
killer he paid to open Bran’s throat.
Though the dwarf denied it, to be
sure. Even after Lysa locked him in one of her sky cells and threatened him
with her moon door, he had still denied it. “He lied,” she said, rising
abruptly. “The Lannisters are liars every one, and the dwarf is the worst of
them. The killer was armed with his own knife.”
    Ser Cleos stared. “I know nothing of any—”
    â€œYou know nothing,” she agreed, sweeping from the cell. Brienne fell in
beside her, silent.
It is simpler for her,
Catelyn thought with a
pang of envy. She was like a man in that. For men the answer was always the
same, and never farther away than the nearest sword. For a woman, a mother, the
way was stonier and harder to know.
    She took a late supper in the Great Hall with her garrison, to give them what
encouragement she could. Rymund the Rhymer sang through all the courses,
sparing her the need to talk. He closed with the song he had written about
Robb’s victory at Oxcross.
“And the stars in the night were the eyes of
his wolves, and the

wind itself was their song.”
Between the verses,