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Tyrion

           ThemeasurehadrestoredadegreeofpeacetoKing’sLandingandquarteredthenumberofcorpsesfoundinthealleysofamorning,yetVaryssaidthepeoplecursedhimforit.Theyshouldbethankfultheyhavethebreathtocurse.ApairofgoldcloaksconfrontedthemastheyweremakingtheirwayalongCoppersmith’sWynd,butwhentheyrealizedwhomthey’dchallengedtheybeggedtheHand’spardonsandwavedthemon.BronnturnedsouthfortheMudGateandtheypartedcompany.

           TyrionrodeontowardChataya’s,butsuddenlyhispatiencedesertedhim.Hetwistedinthesaddle,scanningthestreetbehind.Therewerenosignsoffollowers.Everywindowwasdarkortightlyshuttered.Heheardnothingbutthewindswirlingdownthealleys.IfCerseihassomeonestalkingmetonight,hemustbedisguisedasarat."Buggeritall,"hemuttered.Hewassickofcaution.Wheelinghishorsearound,heduginhisspurs.Ifanyone’safterme,we’llseehowwelltheyride.Heflewthroughthemoonlightstreets,clatteringovercobbles,dartingdownnarrowalleysanduptwistywynds,racingtohislove.

           Ashehammeredonthegateheheardmusicwaftingfaintlyoverthespikedstonewalls.OneoftheIbbeneseusheredhiminside.Tyriongavethemanhishorseandsaid,"Whoisthat?"Thediamond-shapedpanesofthelonghallwindowsshonewithyellowlight,andhecouldhearamansinging.

           TheIbbeneseshrugged."Fatbellysinger."

           Thesoundswelledashewalkedfromthestabletothehouse.

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