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Tyrion

           Thehollowspacebehindthewallswaspitch-black,buthefumbleduntilhefeltmetal.Hishandclosedaroundtherungofaladder.Hefoundalowerrungwithhisfoot,andstarteddown.Wellbelowstreetlevel,theshaftopenedontoaslantingearthentunnel,wherehefoundVaryswaitingwithcandleinhand.

           Varysdidnotlookatalllikehimself.Ascarredfaceandastubbleofdarkbeardshowedunderhisspikedsteelcap,andheworemailoverboiledleather,dirkandshortswordathisbelt."WasChataya’stoyoursatisfaction,mylord?"

           "Almosttoomuchso,"admittedTyrion."You’recertainthiswomancanbereliedon?"

           "Iamcertainofnothinginthisfickleandtreacherousworld,mylord.Chatayahasnocausetolovethequeen,though,andsheknowsthatshehasyoutothankforriddingherofAllarDeem.Shallwego?"Hestarteddownthetunnel.

           Evenhiswalkisdifferent,Tyrionobserved.ThescentofsourwineandgarlicclungtoVarysinsteadoflavender."Ilikethisnewgarbofyours,"heofferedastheywent.

           "TheworkIdodoesnotpermitmetotravelthestreetsamidacolumnofknights.SowhenIleavethecastle,Iadoptmoresuitableguises,andthuslivetoserveyoulonger."

           "Leatherbecomesyou.Yououghttocomelikethistoournextcouncilsession."

           "Yoursisterwouldnotapprove,mylord."

           "Mysisterwouldsoilhersmallclothes."Hesmiledinthedark.

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