The Caliph and Sultan of the Riverlands, and the Death of Arryn

King's Landing, Tower of the Hand.

Jon Arryn jolted awake from a haze, the heavy stench of medicine mingling with sweat and nearly making him retch.

He had fallen ill.

Bonifer Hasty and the band of religious zealots under his command had reached the city walls, and the Red Keep's defenses were on the verge of collapse.

Vardis Egen entered, his footsteps heavy.

Lysa Tully helped Jon Arryn, who looked as though he might die at any moment, sit up against the headboard.

Petyr Baelish stood to one side, his gray-green eyes revealing no emotion in the dim light.

Vardis Egen's voice was hoarse. "My lord,"

"The Spider is gone."

"Grand Maester Pycelle has just sent word that every raven in the Red Keep has been released."

"The queen and the prince have vanished as well..."

The dying Hand said nothing. He did not need to hear any more.

Even the most foolish man should have understood by now that he had been manipulated by a vast conspiracy.

He remembered the two witnesses he had found, who had been willing to testify against Jonos Slynt.

They had been murdered right under his nose.

He remembered his disgust for House Lychester, and his protection of House Tully.

His confidence, his arrogance—all of it had become sharp blades in the hands of the conspirators.

But it was too late to say anything now.

A guard rushed in, blood still staining his armor.

"Lord Jon! Bonifer Hasty requests negotiations!"

Jon Arryn laboriously shifted his eyes toward Lysa Tully.

"Help me up."

He had Lysa Tully straighten him, then nodded to the guard.

"Let him in."

Ser Bonifer Hasty entered.

He wore plain chainmail, his face etched with hardship and piety.

"Lord Arryn,"

His voice was calm and firm.

"Open the gates and surrender.