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Tyrion

           Henotedsweetsleepandnightshade,milkofthepoppy,thetearsofLys,powderedgreycap,wolfsbaneanddemon’sdance,basiliskvenom,blindeye,widow’sblood...

           Standingonhistoesandstrainingupward,hemanagedtopullasmalldustybottleoffthehighshelf.Whenhereadthelabel,hesmiledandslippedituphissleeve.

           HewasbackatthetablepeelinganothereggwhenGrandMaesterPycellecamecreepingdownthestairs."Itisdone,mylord."Theoldmanseatedhimself."Amatterlikethis...bestdonepromptly,indeed,indeed...ofgreatimport,yousay?"

           "Oh,yes."Theporridgewastoothick,Tyrionfelt,andwantedbutterandhoney.Tobesure,butterandhoneywereseldomseeninKing’sLandingoflate,thoughLordGyleskeptthemwellsuppliedinthecastle.HalfofthefoodtheyatethesedayscamefromhislandsorLadyTanda’s.RosbyandStokeworthlaynearthecitytothenorth,andwereyetuntouchedbywar.

           "ThePrinceofDorne,himself.MightIask..."

           "Bestnot."

           "Asyousay."Pycelle’scuriositywassoripethatTyrioncouldalmosttasteit."Mayhaps...theking’scouncil..."

           Tyriontappedhiswoodenspoonagainsttheedgeofthebowl."Thecouncilexiststoadvisetheking,Maester."

           "Justso,"saidPycelle,"andtheking"

           "isaboyofthirteen.Ispeakwithhisvoice."

           "Soyoudo.Indeed.

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