There, across the yard, at the door of the armory, do you see the boy squatting by the steps honing a sword with an oilstone? What of him? He reports to Varys. He looked at Ned's face and laughed. Then we ought to sing and send them fleeing in terror. Ned was soaked through to the bone, and his soul had grown cold.
He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and there Sandor Clegane with his terrible burned face. She heard him shout to the guards outside the room, heard them descending together in a wild rush, taking the stairs two and three at a time. Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers.
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