Tyrion

           Theyhadwarnedhimtodresswarmly.TyrionLannistertookthemattheirword.Hewasgarbedinheavyquiltedbreechesandawoolendoublet,andoveritallhehadthrowntheshadowskincloakhehadacquiredintheMountainsoftheMoon.Thecloakwasabsurdlylong,madeforamantwicehisheight.Whenhewasnotahorse,theonlywaytowearthethingwastowrapitaroundhimseveraltimes,whichmadehimlooklikeaballofstripedfur.

           Evenso,hewasgladhehadlistened.Thechillinthelongdankvaultwentbone-deep.Timetthadchosentoretreatbackuptothecellarafterabrieftasteofthecoldbelow.TheyweresomewhereunderthehillofRhaenys,behindtheGuildhalloftheAlchemists.Thedampstonewallsweresplotchywithniter,andtheonlylightcamefromthesealediron-and-glassoillampthatHallynethePyromancercarriedsogingerly.

           Gingerlyindeed...andthesewouldbethegingerjars.Tyrionliftedoneforinspection.Itwasroundandruddy,afatclaygrapefruit.Alittlebigforhishand,butitwouldfitcomfortablyinthegripofanormalman,heknew.Thepotterywasthin,sofragilethatevenhehadbeenwarnednottosqueezetootightly,lesthecrushitinhisfist.Theclayfeltroughened,pebbled.Hallynetoldhimthatwasintentional."Asmoothpotismoreapttoslipfromaman’sgrasp."

           ThewildfireoozedslowlytowardthelipofthejarwhenTyriontiltedittopeerinside.Thecolorwouldbeamurkygreen,heknew,butthepoorlightmadethatimpossibletoconfirm.

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