Uncle. What convinced you?”
“Why steal Pycelle’s poisons, if not to use them?” Ser Kevan said bluntly. “And Lady Merryweather saw —”
“—
“Perhaps the time has come for you to confess.”
Even through the thick stone walls of the Red Keep, Tyrion could hear the steady wash of rain. “Say that again, Uncle? I could swear you urged me to confess.”
“If you were to admit your guilt before the throne and repent of your crime, your father would withhold the sword. You would be permitted to take the black.”
Tyrion laughed in his face. “Those were the same terms Cersei offered Eddard Stark. We all know how
“Your father had no part in that.”
That much was true, at least. “Castle Black teems with murderers, thieves and rapists,” Tyrion said, “but I don’t recall meeting many regicides while I was there. You expect me to believe that if I admit to being a kinslayer and kingslayer, my father will simply nod, forgive me, and pack me off to the Wall with some warm woolen smallclothes.” He hooted rudely.
“Naught was said of forgiveness,” Ser Kevan said sternly. “A confession would put this matter to rest. It is for that reason your father sends me with this offer.”
“Thank him kindly for me, Uncle,” said Tyrion, “but tell him I am not presently in a confessing mood.”
“Were I you, I’d change my mood. Your sister wants your head, and Lord Tyrell at least is inclined to give it to her.”
“So one of my judges has already condemned me, without hearing a word in my defense?” It was no more than he expected. “Will I still be allowed to speak and present witnesses?”
“You
“I can see how much that prospect upsets you.”
“You are my brother’s son.”
“You might remind
“Do you think he would allow you to take the black if you were not his own blood, and Joanna’s? Tywin seems a hard man to you, I know, but he is no harder than he’s had to be. Our own father was gentle and amiable, but so weak his bannermen mocked him in their cups. Some saw fit to defy him openly. Other lords borrowed our gold and never troubled to repay it. At court they japed of toothless lions. Even his mistress stole from him. A woman scarcely one step above a whore, and she helped herself to my mother’s jewels! It fell to Tywin to restore House Lannister to its proper place. Just as it fell to him to rule this realm, when he was no more than twenty. He bore that heavy burden for
Tyrion blinked in astonishment. Ser Kevan had always been solid, stolid, pragmatic; he had never heard him speak with such fervor before. “You love him.”
“He is my brother.”
“I… I will think on what you’ve said.”
“Think carefully, then. And quickly.”
He thought of little else that night, but come morning was no closer to deciding if his father could be trusted. A servant brought him porridge and honey to break his fast, but all he could taste was bile at the thought of confession.
“Lord Varys,” the herald said, “master of whisperers.”
Powdered, primped, and smelling of rosewater, the Spider rubbed his hands one over the other all the time he spoke.
“Have we heard it all?” Lord Tywin asked his daughter as Varys left the hall.
“Almost,” said Cersei. “I beg your leave to bring one final witness before you, on the morrow.”
“As you wish,” Lord Tywin said.
That night, as he sat by his window drinking, he heard voices outside his door.
Tyrion rose to give Prince Oberyn a mocking bow. “Are judges permitted to visit the accused?”
“Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told your guards.” The Red Viper took a seat.
“My father will be displeased with you.”
“The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns. Is it Dornish wine you’re drinking?”
“From the Arbor.”
Oberyn made a face. “Red water. Did you poison him?”
“No. Did you?”
The prince smiled. “Do all dwarfs have tongues like yours? Someone is going to cut it out one of these days.”
“You are not the first to tell me that. Perhaps I should cut it out myself, it seems to make no end of trouble.”
“So I’ve seen. I think I may drink some of Lord Redwyne’s grape juice after all.”
“As you like.” Tyrion served him a cup.
The man took a sip, sloshed it about in his mouth, and swallowed. “It will serve, for the moment. I will send you up some strong Dornish wine on the morrow.” He took another sip. “I have turned up that golden-haired whore I was hoping for.”
“So you found Chataya’s?”
“At Chataya’s I bedded the black-skinned girl. Alayaya, I believe she is called. Exquisite, despite the stripes on her back. But the whore I referred to is your sister.”
“Has she seduced you yet?” Tyrion asked, unsurprised.
Oberyn laughed aloud. “No, but she will if I meet her price. The queen has even hinted at marriage. Her Grace needs another husband, and who better than a prince of Dorne? Ellaria believes I should accept. Just the thought of Cersei in our bed makes her wet, the randy wench. And we should not even need to pay the dwarf’s penny. All your sister requires from me is one head, somewhat overlarge and missing a nose.”