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***
After talking to Theon, Light headed for the Hand's tower. Judging by the light pouring in from the upstairs window, Lord Eddard was awake. He must be trying to solve the riddle of the book. We must give him another clue. When the King dies, Eddard Stark must know the truth by now.
At the entrance to the tower, Light met a black brother: old, dirty, one shoulder higher than the other, but his face was the face of a warrior. It was exactly how Tyrion had described the Night's Watch recruiter in whose company he was travelling back to the capital.
- Yoren?
The sentinel looked at Light in surprise.
- Do I know you, boy?
- 'No, but my cousin Tyrion has mentioned you in letters. Did he come with you?
Yoren was silent. Something has happened, Light realised. Something he won't tell me about.
- 'Tell you what, lad,' Yoren said at last. - I'll tell you what happened to your cousin, if you swear by all the gods, Old and New, that the information will never get past you. I rode day and night to bring this news first. No one but the Hand of the King must know it.
Light made a serious face and nodded slowly, reluctantly.
- All right. I swear by the Old and New Gods that I won't tell anyone what you tell me. But I need to know what happened to Tyrion. Is he alive?
- Alive and in captivity. Lady Catelyn has captured him and is taking him to Winterfell.
***
The door to Lord Eddard's study was locked. Light had to wait for it to open and let out a visitor: Varys, Master of the Whisperers. The eunuch smiled affectionately at Light and left, softly rustling his dressing gown.
- Lord Eddard?
A vertical wrinkle cut across the Hand's forehead. His shoulders hunched. All the cares of the world seemed to fall upon him at once.
- What had happened?
- Family problems. My wife did something I wouldn't let her do, and I'm afraid the consequences will be severe. But more importantly. I realised why Jon Arryn was killed.
- You're not going to tell me?
- No, Lancel. It's too heavy a burden for you to carry. All I'll say is that the Queen was involved. As I feared.
- And what did Lord Varys tell you?
- He told me how my predecessor was killed. He said it was poison, 'the tears of Lyssa.' He also warned me--
- Did he?
- Varys asked me not to tell any of the Lannisters, but I think we can make an exception for you. Varys thinks the King could be killed tomorrow.
Light's heart skipped a beat. How? Why? How did the eunuch know of his plan, since he was so careful?
- Yes, Lancel. It shocked me as much as it did you. Did you hear Robert announce at the feast a couple of hours ago that he wanted to fight in the general fight?
- The Queen talked him out of it.
Lord Eddard smiled sadly.
- 'Lancel, you are so young and naive. You've been the king's squire for six months now, and you must have learnt his character. There's no better way to make Robert do something than to forbid him to do it.
- And how can we save him?
Lord Eddard clearly liked that 'we.' Nevertheless, he shook his head.
- Not we, but I. I will meet with the king in the morning and talk him out of the fight.
That's all we need!
- Lord Eddard, you need not trouble yourself. I will speak to his Grace myself and....
Eddard Stark smiled briefly.
- 'It is unlikely the king will listen to you, Lancel. You are not his old friend.
Yes, it was a weak attempt. Better to distract him with something else... but what?
- Lord Eddard, I've come to tell you of another of the King's bastards. It's a baby girl. Her name is Barra. Does that interest you?
- Yes, Lancel, but now is not the time.
- It is the right time. The brothels are empty early in the morning, so you can talk to her mother without interference. And afterwards, you'll have plenty of time to warn the King.
- You're going to give me a sleepless night,' the Hand sighed, 'but have it your way. In half an hour I and five of my guards will be waiting for you at the gates of the Red Castle.
***
As he crossed the Red Castle courtyard, Light thought about how lucky he was. If he hadn't met Yoren or learnt of Tyrion's capture, Lord Stark, warned by Varys, would have been able to dissuade the king from joining the fight and save his life. But Petyr Baelish's lies, Lady Catelyn's foolishness, and Yoren's overconfidence gave Light a chance to stop the Hand. Stark said he'd take five bodyguards. We should warn Jaime to take at least twenty.
Knowing Lord Stark, Light had no doubt he'd take the blame for his wife's reckless act. And knowing Jaime, Light had no doubt that he would not let Tyrion's kidnapping go unchallenged, nor would he be afraid to attack the Hand of the King in broad daylight. Attack but not kill: Jaime realises that Stark's death means Tyrion's death. But the Hand may be wounded, and even if he isn't, the fight with Jaime and the deaths of five of his men will distract his attention and prevent him from saving the king. Jaime, on the other hand, will have to leave the capital and return to the Cliff.
Lord Tywin's reaction to his son's kidnapping is easy to predict: revenge, and brutal revenge at that. Lady Catelyn belongs to the Tully family, whose lands lie in the neighbourhood of the West and whose army is almost twice the size of the Cliff's. With Robert alive, Lord Tywin would probably be wary of attacking in the open and would launch various provocations to make the Tullys look like the instigators of the conflict. The King's death would give him a free hand. With luck, he could crush the River Lords and take Riverrun before the Northmen could come to their aid. Let Jaime win glory in battle, ravaging the Riverlands. Lythe, meanwhile, will take a seat on the Small Council and run the state with the queen.
Of course, the position of master over law is only the first step. Though it will suffice for some of his plans, the main thing is to gain experience and influence for the next step. Hand? No, no one will give him such a post. But a castle with lands is quite realistic. In feudal society, the power of a lord in his domain is not limited by almost anything, and even more so in wartime. Light will be able to test and test the reforms that will be implemented throughout the country.
Light had never been to the White Sword Tower before. The royal guards lived there, and outsiders were not allowed in. He had to knock for about five minutes before the door opened and a sleepy Merrin Trant appeared on the doorstep.
- Ser Merrin, is my cousin Jaime here?
- He's asleep, and I wouldn't advise you to wake him.
- Wake him up, though. It's very important! This is our kinsman we're talking about!
Ser Merrin shrugged and left. Five minutes later, Ser Jaime stood before Lancel, wearing white scaled armour and a crookedly buttoned white cloak. He yawned defiantly.
- What's the matter, Lancel?
- Tyrion's been kidnapped.
***
When he reached the door, Light feigned embarrassment and said he didn't want to be seen here again. Lord Eddard nodded, and Light ran to the city gates and beyond, to where the morning sun illuminated the tournament field with its rows of tents. Near the king's tent, Light stopped to catch his breath. When Light pulled back the canopy and stepped inside, the king, naked to the waist, swore at him.
- Where in the world have you been? Get the beer, now!
He drained the horn of ale in one swig and continued to rage:
- She says I can't fight! Who the hell is she?! I'm the king, and I want to beat somebody! Get your armour!
Trying to put on the breastplate that had become too tight, the king swore:
- 'What a crooked little fool you are, Lancel! You can't even dress your king before the battle! What am I supposed to do, fight naked?
- Your Grace, this breastplate is too small. I'll get another one.
The King straightened up. His bloodshot eyes looked down at Light.
- What did you say?! Do you think I'm too fat?
- Yes, Your Grace.
Suddenly, Robert laughed.
- Well, at least you're not a coward. All right, get the other one. Hurry up! No, did you hear that? The King is too fat!
Returning with another breastplate, Light offered the king a cup of wine to refresh himself before the battle. Robert grunted approvingly and drank a cup and then another. Good. Theon is a good archer, but not a very good swordsman. It should be made as easy as possible for him.
The king was sweating profusely as he put on his armour with Light's help. Light brought him a second horn of ale to make up for the loss of fluids. When the king was finally ready to enter the field, he was a little shaky. Light noticed that his Grace looked very menacing and intimidating.
- Flatterer,' the king muttered, though Light could see that he was pleased. - But you're right. Tonight I'll show them all! They will all see that a king can still do something!
- I wish you victory, your grace.
Robert nodded, put on his horned helmet and started to leave the tent, but on the threshold he turned round.
- By the way, where has my Hand gone? I thought you were helping him with something. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?
Fighting outside a brothel with Jaime Lannister.
- No, Your Grace.
- That's a pity. I wish old Ned could have seen me triumph. Oh, well. I'll tell him later.
As he stared after the king, Light had an acute sense of déjà vu. It was the same way he'd looked at Misora Naomi after he'd written her name in his notebook. Here in Westeros, there are no notebooks, no gods of death, but Light had killed Robert - killed him without even laying a finger on him.
The king stomped heavily across the field, his hand shielding his eyes from the bright sun. At the opposite end of the field, the rest of the combatants were lined up, waiting for the signal. Light spotted Theon Greyjoy among them. He was calm and collected.
Farewell, Your Grace.