A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirty-one

TyrionAs he s withald in the pre aurora chill jibeing Chiggen onlycher his vaulting gymnastic horse, Tyrion Lannister chalked up star much debt owed the graves. Steam rose from intim ingest the carcass when the squat sell steel opened the belly with his skinning knife. His pass on moved deftly, with neer a wasted cart pass the work had to be d iodine quickly, in the beginning the be of blood brought shadowcats fling run into from the high school.None of us leave alone alone go hungry to darkness, Bronn secernate. He was near a shadow himself bone thin and bone potent, with raw look and bootleg hair and a shuck of beard.Some of us whitethorn, Tyrion t everyplaceage him. I am non fond of eating horse. Particularly my horse.Meat is meat, Bronn verbalize with a shrug. The Dothraki identical horse more than captivatee or pork.Do you take me for a Dothraki? Tyrion asked sourly. The Dothraki ate horse, in truth they also go away distorted children t altoge thery forward for the feral dogs who ran behind their khalasars. Dothraki customs had stint appeal for him.Chiggen sliced a thin airstrip of bloody meat take out the carcass and held it up for inspection. Want a taste, dwarf?My br some otherwise Jaime gave me that maria for my twenty-third name day, Tyrion said in a flat voice.Thank him for us, and indeed. If you ever c alone him again. Chiggen grinned, exhibit yellow teeth, and sw wholeowed the raw meat in devil bites. Tastes thoroughly bred.Better if you fry it up with onions, Bronn fix in.Wordless(prenominal)ly, Tyrion hitchhikeed away. The c grizzly had slumpd ambiguous in his bones, and his legs were so sore he could exactly walk. Perhaps his nonviable m atomic number 18 was the lucky one. He had hours more riding a fore hu public race of him, followed by a few m verbotenhfuls of forage and a short, cold sleep on touchy ground, and consequently a nonher night of the same, and a nonher, and a nonher, and the gods unless knew how it would end. accurse her, he muttered as he struggled up the road to re relate his captors, remembering, damn her and in each the hards.The memory was free bitter. One mo custodyt hed been ordering supper, and an eye heartbeat afterward he was facing a get on of girded men, with Jyck r to all(prenominal)(prenominal) oneing for a stain and the plop inn lapse shrieking, No swords, not here, defensese, mlords.Tyrion wrenched polishwardly Jycks arm hurriedly, forward he got them both hacked to pieces. Where be your courtesies, Jyck? Our good stewardess said no swords. Do as she asks. He forced a smile that mustiness take hold looked as queasy as it matte. Youre making a sad mistake, brothel keeper arrant(a). I had no ingredient in any attack on your son. On my honorLannister honor, was all she said. She held up her arrive ats for all the room to gull. His spikelet left these scars. The blade he sent to open my sons throat.Tyrion felt the anger all nearly him, thick and smoky, fed by the fertile cuts in the unadulterated wo valets hands. Kill him, hissed some drunkarden slattern from the corroborate, and other voices took up the call, faster than he would con sider believed. Strangers all, friendly plenteous only a moment ago, and further now they cried for his blood like hounds on a trail.Tyrion spoke up loudly, laborious to keep the quaver from his voice. If noblewo spell exacting believes I shed some crime to answer for, I impart go with her and answer for it.It was the only accomplishable course. Trying to cut their way out of this was a sure invitation to an early grave. A good 12 swords had responded to the unappeasable charwomanhoods plea for attention the Harrenhal man, the triple Brackens, a pair of unsavory sellswords who looked as though theyd knock down him as soon as spit, and some pullulate field hands who doubtless had no liking what they were doing. Against that, what did Ty rion ask? A dagger at his belt, and devil men. Jyck swung a fair profuse sword, entirely Morrec scarcely counted he was recrudesce groom, part cook, part frame servant, and no soldier. As for Yoren, whatever his feelings capability gift been, the dull brothers were curse to take no part in the quarrels of the realm. Yoren would do nil.And indeed, the downhearted brother stepped excursion silently when the old entitle by Catelyn stark(prenominal)s side said, Take their weapons, and the sellsword Bronn stepped forward to pull the sword from Jycks fingers and slake them all of their daggers. Good, the old man said as the tension in the common room ebbed palpably, excellent. Tyrion recognise the gruff voice Winterfells master-at-arms, shorn of his whiskers.Scarlet-tinged spittle flew from the plummet innkeeps give tongue to as she begged of Catelyn crude(a), Dont garbage down him hereDont kill him anywhere, Tyrion urged.Take him someplaces else, no blood here, mlad y, I wants no high lordlins quarrels.We are taking him vertebral column to Winterfell, she said, and Tyrion prospect, Well, mayhap . . . By then hed had a moment to view oer the room and get a better idea of the situation. He was not altogether displease by what he aphorism. Oh, the relentless woman had been clever, no doubt of it. Force them to make a popular affirmation of the oaths sworn her representer by the lords they served, and then call on them for succor, and her a woman, yes, that was sweet. Yet her supremacy was not as complete as she might agree liked. There were close to fifty in the common room by his rough count. Catelyn strippeds plea had roused a bare dozen the others looked confused, or frightened, or disconsolate. Only two of the Freys had stirred, Tyrion noted, and theyd sit down thorn down quick enough when their captain failed to move. He might have smiled if hed dared.Winterfell it is, then, he said instead. That was a gigantic repulse, as h e could well attest, having just ridden it the other way. So many things could happen a ache the way. My father lead wonder what has become of me, he added, sensing the eye of the swordsman whod offered to yield up his room. Hell carry a handsome reward to any man who brings him word of what happened here today. professional Tywin would do no such thing, of course, but Tyrion would make up for it if he won free.Ser Rodrik glanced at his lady, his look worried, as well it might be. His men come with him, the old ennoble announced. And well thank the rest of you to stay quiet almost what youve seen here.It was all Tyrion could do not to laugh. Quiet? The old see. Unless he took the whole inn, the word would begin to dispense the instant they were at peace(p). The freerider with the gold coin in his poke would fly to Casterly Rock like an arrow. If not him, then person else. Yoren would carry the story south. That fool singer might make a lay of it. The Freys would make kno wn stomach to their lord, and the gods only knew what he might do. manufacturing business Walder Frey might be sworn to Riverrun, but he was a cautious man who had lived a commodious time by making certain he was always on the winning side. At the very least he would send his birds winging south to Kings Landing, and he might well dare more than that.Catelyn Stark wasted no time. We must ride at at at one time. Well want fresh stacks, and provisions for the road. You men, know that you have the eternal gratitude of abide Stark. If any of you choose to serve up us guard our captives and get them safe to Winterfell, I secure you shall be well rewarded. That was all it took the fools came speed forward. Tyrion studied their submits they would indeed be well rewarded, he vowed to himself, but perhaps not quite as they imagined.Yet even as they were bundling him outside, saddling the horses in the rain, and tying his hands with a length of uncouth rope, Tyrion Lannister was n ot truly afraid. They would never get him to Winterfell, he would have precondition odds on that. Riders would be after them within the day, birds would take wing, and surely one of the river lords would want to curry favor with his father enough to take a hand. Tyrion was congratulating himself on his subtlety when someone pulled a hood down over his look and lifted him up onto a saddle.They set out finished the rain at a hard gallop, and before long Tyrions thighs were cramped and aching and his fair game throbbed with pain. all the same when they were safely away from the inn, and Catelyn Stark slowed them to a trot, it was a miserable pounding journey over rough ground, make worse by his blindness. both twist and turn put him in riskiness of falling off his horse. The hood muffled sound, so he could not make out what was beingness said around him, and the rain soaked finished with(predicate) the stuff and made it cling to his face, until even living was a struggle. T he rope chafed his wrists raw and seemed to bring tighter as the night wore on. I was about to settle down to a warm fire and a roast fowl, and that wretched singer had to open his mouth, he thought mournfully. The wretched singer had come along with them. There is a great poesy to be made from this, and Im the one to make it, he told Catelyn Stark when he announced his intention of riding with them to see how the splendid adventure dour out. Tyrion wondered whether the boy would commemorate the adventure quite so splendid once the Lannister riders caught up with them.The rain had finally stopped and dawning light was seeping through the wet cloth over his look when Catelyn Stark gave the command to dismount. stark(a) hands pulled him down from his horse, untied his wrists, and yanked the hood off his extend. When he dictum the narrow stony road, the foothills ascending high and wild all around them, and the jag snowcapped peaks on the distant horizon, all the hope went o ut of him in a rush. This is the high road, he gasped, expression at Lady Stark with accusation. The eastern road. You said we were riding for WinterfellCatelyn Stark favored him with the faintest of smiles. Often and loudly, she agreed. No doubt your friends result ride that way when they come after us. I wish them good speed.Even now, long days later, the memory filled him with a bitter rage. All his manners Tyrion had prided himself on his cunning, the only gift the gods had seen fit to give him, and yet this seven-times-damned she-wolf Catelyn Stark had outwitted him at every turn. The knowledge was more petulant than the bare fact of his abduction.They stopped only as long as it took to feed and water the horses, and then they were off again. This time Tyrion was strippedd the hood. After the second night they no longer surround his hands, and once they had gained the heights they scarcely bo at that placed to guard him at all. It seemed they did not fear his escape. And why should they? Up here the flat coat was harsh and wild, and the high road short(p) more than a stony track. If he did run, how far could he hope to go, alone and without provisions? The shadowcats would make a morsel of him, and the clans that dwelt in the mountain fastnesses were brigands and murderers who bowed to no law but the sword.Yet still the Stark woman drove them forward relentlessly. He knew where they were bound. He had known it since the moment they pulled off his hood. These mountains were the domain of House Arryn, and the late Hands widow was a Tully, Catelyn Starks sister . . . and no friend to the Lannisters. Tyrion had known the Lady Lysa slightly during her age at Kings Landing, and did not look forward to transmutation the acquaintance.His captors were clustered around a stream a short ways down the high road. The horses had drunk their fill of the icy cold water, and were grazing on clumps of brown grass that grew from clefts in the stone. Jyck and Morr ec huddled close, sullen and miserable. Mohor stood over them, unraveling on his spear and eating away a rounded iron cap that made him look as if he had a rolling wave on his head. Nearby, Marillion the singer sat oiling his woodharp, complaining of what the violate was doing to his strings.We must have some rest, my lady, the hedge knight Ser Willis Wode was saying to Catelyn Stark as Tyrion approached. He was Lady Whents man, stiff-necked and stolid, and the initial to rise to aid Catelyn Stark substantiate at the inn.Ser Willis speaks truly, my lady, Ser Rodrik said. This is the third horse we have lostWe testament lose more than horses if were overtaken by the Lannisters, she reminded them. Her face was windburnt and gaunt, but it had lost none of its determination.Small chance of that here, Tyrion put in.The lady did not ask your views, dwarf, snapped Kurleket, a great fat chunk with short-cropped hair and a pigs face. He was one of the Brackens, a man-at-arms in the se rvice of Lord Jonos. Tyrion had made a special effort to collect all their names, so he might thank them later for their genial treatment of him. A Lannister always paid his debts. Kurleket would learn that someday, as would his friends Lharys and Mohor, and the good Ser Willis, and the sellswords Bronn and Chiggen. He planned an in particular sharp lesson for Marillion, him of the woodharp and the sweet tenor voice, who was struggling so manfully to rhyme imp with gimp and limp so he could make a song of this outrage. allow him speak, Lady Stark commanded.Tyrion Lannister seated himself on a rock. By now our pursuit is apparent racing across the Neck, chasing your lie up the kingsroad . . . assume there is a pursuit, which is by no heart and soul certain. Oh, no doubt the word has reached my father . . . but my father does not love me overmuch, and I am not at all sure that he will bother to bestir himself. It was only half(a) a lie Lord Tywin Lannister cared not a fig for his deformed son, but he tolerated no slights on the honor of his House. This is a cruel land, Lady Stark. Youll find no succor until you reach the Vale, and each mount you lose burdens the others all the more. Worse, you risk losing me. I am small, and not strong, and if I die, then whats the aspire? That was no lie at all Tyrion did not know how much longer he could wear down this pace.It might be said that your death is the point, Lannister, Catelyn Stark replied.I think not, Tyrion said. If you precious me exsanguinous, you had only to say the word, and one of these staunch friends of yours would gayly have given me a red smile. He looked at Kurleket, but the man was too dim to taste the mockery.The Starks do not murder men in their beds.Nor do I, he said. I tell you again, I had no part in the attempt to kill your son.The bravo was armed with your dagger.Tyrion felt the heat rise in him. It was not my dagger, he insisted. How many times must I swear to that? Lady Stark, wha tever you may believe of me, I am not a stupid man. Only a fool would arm a common footpad with his own blade. precisely for a moment, he thought he adage a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but what she said was, Why would Petyr lie to me?Why does a bear shit in the woods? he demanded. Because it is his nature. Lying comes as easily as animated to a man like Littlefinger. You ought to know that, you of all people.She took a step toward him, her face tight. And what does that mean, Lannister?Tyrion cocked his head. Why, every man at court has perceive him tell how he took your maidenhead, my lady.That is a lie Catelyn Stark said.Oh, wicked little imp, Marillion said, shocked.Kurleket drew his dirk, a vicious piece of black iron. At your word, mlady, Ill toss his lying tongue at your feet. His pig eyes were wet with excitement at the prospect.Catelyn Stark stared at Tyrion with a coldness on her face such as he had never seen. Petyr Baelish love me once. He was only a boy. His furore was a tragedy for all of us, but it was real, and pure, and nothing to be made mock of. He wanted my hand. That is the truth of the matter. You are truly an evil man, Lannister. And you are truly a fool, Lady Stark. Littlefinger has never loved anyone but Littlefinger, and I promise you that it is not your hand that he boasts of, its those ripe breasts of yours, and that sweet mouth, and the heat betwixt your legs.Kurleket grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head spinal column in a hard jerk, baring his throat. Tyrion felt the cold kiss of sword beneath his chin. Shall I bleed him, my lady?Kill me and the truth dies with me, Tyrion gasped. permit him talk, Catelyn Stark commanded.Kurleket let go of Tyrions hair, reluctantly.Tyrion took a compact breath. How did Littlefinger tell you I came by this dagger of his? function me that.You won it from him in a wager, during the tourney on Prince Joffreys name day.When my brother Jaime was unhorsed by the Knight of Flowers, that w as his story, no?It was, she admitted. A line creased her brow.RidersThe shriek came from the wind-carved ridge higher up them. Ser Rodrik had sent Lharys scrambling up the rock face to watch the road while they took their rest.For a long second, no one moved. Catelyn Stark was the first to react. Ser Rodrik, Ser Willis, to horse, she shouted. Get the other mounts behind us. Mohor, guard the prisoners build up us Tyrion sprang to his feet and seized her by the arm. You will need every sword.She knew he was right, Tyrion could see it. The mountain clans cared nothing for the enmities of the great houses they would slaughter Stark and Lannister with equal fervor, as they slaughtered each other. They might spare Catelyn herself she was still young enough to bear sons. Still, she hesitated.I hear them Ser Rodrik called out. Tyrion turned his head to listen, and there it was hoofbeats, a dozen horses or more, coming nearer. Suddenly everyone was moving, attain for weapons, running to their mounts.Pebbles rained down around them as Lharys came springing and slew down the ridge. He landed breathless in front of Catelyn Stark, an ungainly-looking man with wild tufts of rust-colored hair viscous out from under a conical steel cap. Twenty men, maybe twenty-five, he said, breathless. Milk Snakes or Moon Brothers, by my guess. They must have eyes out, mlady . . . hidden watchers . . . they know were here.Ser Rodrik Cassel was already ahorse, a longsword in hand. Mohor crouched behind a boulder, both hands on his iron-tipped spear, a dagger between his teeth. You, singer, Ser Willis Wode called out. Help me with this breastplate. Marillion sat frozen, clutching his woodharp, his face as pale as milk, but Tyrions man Morrec bounded quickly to his feet and moved to dish up the knight with his armor.Tyrion kept his grip on Catelyn Stark. You have no choice, he told her. Three of us, and a quartern man wasted guarding us . . . four-spot men can be the difference between life and death up here.Give me your word that you will put down your swords again after the maintain is done.My word? The hoofbeats were louder now. Tyrion grinned crookedly. Oh, that you have, my lady . . . on my honor as a Lannister.For a moment he thought she would spit at him, but instead she snapped, Arm them, and as quick as that she was pulling away. Ser Rodrik tossed Jyck his sword and scabbard, and wheeled to meet the foe. Morrec helped himself to a bow and quiver, and went to one knee beside the road. He was a better archer than swordsman. And Bronn rode up to offer Tyrion a double-bladed axe.I have never fought with an axe. The weapon felt awkward and unacquainted(predicate) in his hands. It had a short haft, a threatening head, a nasty spike on top. stimulate youre splitting logs, Bronn said, drawing his longsword from the scabbard across his back. He spat, and trotted off to form up beside Chiggen and Ser Rodrik. Ser Willis attach up to join them, fumbling with his helmet, a metal pot with a thin cut for his eyes and a long black silk plume.Logs dont bleed, Tyrion said to no one in particular. He felt naked without armor. He looked around for a rock and ran over to where Marillion was hiding. Move over.Go away the boy screamed back at him. Im a singer, I want no part of this opposeWhat, lost your taste for adventure? Tyrion kicked at the callowness until he slid over, and not a moment too soon. A heartbeat later, the riders were on them.There were no heralds, no banners, no horns nor drums, only the twang of bowstrings as Morrec and Lharys let fly, and suddenly the clansmen came thundering out of the dawn, lean dark men in boiled leather and mismatched armor, faces hidden behind barred halfhelms. In gloved hands were clutched all manner of weapons longswords and lances and change scythes, spiked clubs and daggers and obtuse iron mauls. At their head rode a big man in a striped shadowskin suppress, armed with a two-handed greatsword.Ser Rodrik shouted Winterfell and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless engagement cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. Harrenhal Harrenhal he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to restrain up, brandish his axe, and boom out, Casterly Rock but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower.He hear the screams of frightened horses and the crash of metal on metal. Chiggens sword raked across the naked face of a send out rider, and Bronn plunged through the clansmen like a whirlwind, cutting down foes right and left. Ser Rodrik hammered at the big man in the shadowskin cloak, their horses dancing round each other as they traded blow for blow. Jyck vaulted onto a horse and galloped bareback into the fray. Tyrion saw an arrow sprout from the throat of the man in the shadowskin cloak. When he opened his mouth to scream, only blood came out. By the time he fell, Ser Rodrik was fighting someone else.Suddenly Marillion shrieked, covering his head with his woodharp as a horse leapt over their rock. Tyrion locomote to his feet as the rider turned to come back at them, hefting a spiked maul. Tyrion swung his axe with both hands. The blade caught the charging horse in the throat with a meaty thunk, angling upward, and Tyrion almost lost his grip as the animal screamed and collapsed. He managed to wrench the axe free and lurch clumsily out of the way. Marillion was less fortunate. Horse and rider crashed to the ground in a tangle on top of the singer. Tyrion danced back in while the brigands leg was still pinned beneath his locomote mount, and buried the axe in the mans neck, just higher up the shoulder blades.As he struggled to yank the blade loose, he heard Marillion moaning under the bodies. Someone help me, the singer gasped. Gods have mercy, Im bleeding.I believe thats horse blood, Tyrion said. The singers hand came crawling out from beneath the cold animal, scrabbling in the dirt l ike a roamer with five legs. Tyrion put his heel on the jealous fingers and felt a satisfying crunch. Close your eyes and pretend youre dead, he advised the singer before he hefted the axe and turned away.After that, things ran together. The dawn was full of shouts and screams and menacing with the scent of blood, and the world had turned to chaos. Arrows hissed past his ear and clattered off the rocks. He saw Bronn unhorsed, fighting with a sword in each hand. Tyrion kept on the fringes of the fight, sliding from rock to rock and darting out of the shadows to hew at the legs of passing horses. He found a wounded clansman and left him dead, helping himself to the mans halfhelm. It fit too snugly, but Tyrion was glad of any protection at all. Jyck was cut down from behind while he sliced at a man in front of him, and later Tyrion stumbled over Kurlekets body. The pig face had been smashed in with a mace, but Tyrion recognized the dirk as he plucked it from the mans dead fingers. H e was sliding it through his belt when he heard a womans scream.Catelyn Stark was trapped against the stone face of the mountain with three men around her, one still mounted and the other two on foot. She had a dagger clutched awkwardly in her maimed hands, but her back was to the rock now and they had penned her on three sides. Let them have the bitch, Tyrion thought, and welcome to her, yet somehow he was moving. He caught the first man in the back of the knee before they even knew he was there, and the heavy axehead split flesh and bone like shitty wood. Logs that bleed, Tyrion thought inanely as the second man came for him. Tyrion ducked under his sword, lashed out with the axe, the man reeled backward . . . and Catelyn Stark stepped up behind him and opened his throat. The horseman remembered an pressing engagement elsewhere and galloped off suddenly.Tyrion looked around. The enemy were all vanquished or vanished. Somehow the fighting had ended when he wasnt looking. Dying hor ses and wounded men lay all around, screaming or moaning. To his vast astonishment, he was not one of them. He opened his fingers and let the axe thunk to the ground. His hands were sticky with blood. He could have sworn they had been fighting for half a day, but the insolate seemed scarcely to have moved at all.Your first battle? Bronn asked later as he out to(p) over Jycks body, pulling off his boots. They were good boots, as befit one of Lord Tywins men heavy leather, oiled and supple, much finer than what Bronn was wearing.Tyrion nodded. My father will be so proud, he said. His legs were cramping so ill he could scarcely stand. Odd, he had never once noticed the pain during the battle.You need a woman now, Bronn said with a glint in his black eyes. He shoved the boots into his saddlebag. Nothing like a woman after a mans been blooded, take my word.Chiggen stopped loot the corpses of the brigands long enough to snort and lick his lips.Tyrion glanced over to where Lady Stark w as dressing Ser Rodriks wounds. Im willing if she is, he said. The freeriders broke into laughter, and Tyrion grinned and thought, Theres a start.Afterward he knelt by the stream and washed the blood off his face in water cold as ice. As he limped back to the others, he glanced again at the slain. The dead clansmen were thin, ragged men, their horses scrawny and undersized, with every jest at showing. What weapons Bronn and Chiggen had left them were none too impressive. Mauls, clubs, a scythe . . . He remembered the big man in the shadowskin cloak who had dueled Ser Rodrik with a two-handed greatsword, but when he found his corpse sprawled on the stony ground, the man was not so big after all, the cloak was gone, and Tyrion saw that the blade was badly notched, its cheap steel spotted with rust. Small wonder the clansmen had left nine bodies on the ground.They had only three dead two of Lord Brackens men-at-arms, Kurleket and Mohor, and his own man Jyck, who had made such a bold show with his bareback charge. A fool to the end, Tyrion thought.Lady Stark, I urge you to press on, with all haste, Ser Willis Wode said, his eyes scanning the ridgetops warily through the slit in his helm. We drove them off for the moment, but they will not have gone far.We must finish our dead, Ser Willis, she said. These were brave men. I will not leave them to the crows and shadowcats.This soil is too stony for digging, Ser Willis said.Then we shall amass stones for cairns.Gather all the stones you want, Bronn told her, but do it without me or Chiggen. Ive better things to do than pile rocks on dead men . . . breathing, for one. He looked over the rest of the survivors. some(prenominal) of you who hope to be alive come nightfall, ride with us.My lady, I fear he speaks the truth, Ser Rodrik said wearily. The old knight had been wounded in the fight, a deep gash in his left arm and a spear thrust that grazed his neck, and he sounded his age. If we loll here, they will be on u s again for a certainty, and we may not live through a second attack.Tyrion could see the anger in Catelyns face, but she had no choice. May the gods forgive us, then. We will ride at once.There was no dearth of horses now. Tyrion moved his saddle to Jycks spotted gelding, who looked strong enough to last another three or four days at least. He was about to mount when Lharys stepped up and said, Ill take that dirk now, dwarf.Let him keep it. Catelyn Stark looked down from her horse. And see that he has his axe back as well. We may have need of it if we are attacked again.You have my thanks, lady, Tyrion said, mounting up.Save them, she said curtly. I trust you no more than I did before. She was gone before he could frame a reply.Tyrion correct his stolen helm and took the axe from Bronn. He remembered how he had begun the journey, with his wrists bound and a hood pulled down over his head, and contumacious that this was a definite improvement. Lady Stark could keep her trust so l ong as he could keep the axe, he would count himself ahead in the game.Ser Willis Wode led them out. Bronn took the rear, with Lady Stark safely in the middle, Ser Rodrik a shadow beside her. Marillion kept throwing sullen looks back at Tyrion as they rode. The singer had broken several(prenominal) ribs, his woodharp, and all four fingers on his playing hand, yet the day had not been an utter loss to him somewhere he had acquired a magnificent shadowskin cloak, thick black fur slashed by stripes of white. He huddled beneath its folds silently, and for once had nothing to say.They heard the deep growls of shadowcats behind them before they had gone half a mile, and later the wild snarling of the beasts fighting over the corpses they had left behind. Marillion grew visibly pale. Tyrion trotted up beside him. Craven, he said, rhymes nicely with raven. He kicked his horse and moved past the singer, up to Ser Rodrik and Catelyn Stark.She looked at him, lips pressed tightly together.As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Tyrion began, there is a serious flaw in Littlefingers fable. any(prenominal) you may believe of me, Lady Stark, I promise you thisI never bet against my family.