Tower of the Hand

Tyrion rubbed his little hands over his large face and rallied himself. "Jaime, here's what happened..."

Tyrion had always been eloquent. He gave Jaime a concise account of what had happened.

Jaime recalled the plot against Cersei that Gryn had analyzed for him earlier. A thought struck him. "Tyrion, you're smarter than I am. Can you guess why Littlefinger wanted to stir up conflict between Cersei and Lord Jon?"

Jaime asked as naturally as he could. He had taken Gryn's advice to heart—or perhaps he was simply a man of his word. He hadn't told anyone else about the plot against Cersei.

Jaime wouldn't reveal the plot against Cersei to anyone. He would investigate it secretly on his own.

Tyrion slapped his thigh, suddenly energized. "At first, even I couldn't figure out why Petyr was doing this. Then Gryn helped me work it out. The young man is remarkably clever. If I weren't so short, I'd have kissed him on the spot."

Jaime looked at his brother, who could never stay serious for more than three seconds, and smiled helplessly. "I suggest you give up on that. From what I know of him, that would definitely ruin your friendship."

Tyrion grinned broadly.

Jaime patted Tyrion on the back. "What did young Gryn say?"

Tyrion cleared his throat and sobered. "Littlefinger's target is probably Lord Jon, who trusts him most. Everyone knows the old lord's health is in very poor shape."

Confusion showed in Jaime's eyes.

Tyrion continued, "You know what our sister is like. She's despised Lord Jon for a long time, and King Robert isn't at the Red Keep. Who could stop her from making a scene?"

Cersei was a little willful. Jaime had to admit it.

"Our sister won't show the old lord the slightest mercy just because he's elderly. As a result, the stress Cersei puts him under will only make Lord Jon's health worse."

By now, Jaime had more or less guessed Petyr's aim. "Petyr wants Lord Jon's power?"

Tyrion nodded. "Lord Jon trusts Petyr most, since they're both from the Vale. His health won't let him handle affairs of state like he used to. The less he can manage on his own, the more he'll have to rely on the seemingly loyal and dependable Lord Sheep-Shit."

Jaime's eyes were cold. "A ridiculous plot. He hurt Cersei."

Tyrion said solemnly, "Yes. A Lannister always pays his debts. That's why I gave Gryn Petyr's position without hesitation. Petyr is shrewd enough to guess I was behind it."

Jaime patted Tyrion's small shoulder. "Well done, Tyrion."

Tyrion leaned closer to Jaime. "Gryn will meet with Lord Jon this morning. We still need to keep Cersei in the dark, or she might clash with Lord Jon. If things get out of hand, we won't be able to keep King Robert from hearing about it."

Jaime considered it for a moment. "Don't you think it would be better for Gryn to keep out of the way for a while?"

Tyrion shrugged. "At heart, Gryn's a knight, just like you. He told me the best defense is an offense. Language is a curious thing. He convinced me in an instant."

Tyrion continued with a grin, "I imagine Littlefinger and Gryn had a very pleasant late-night talk. You can trust him."

A knight never feared. Jaime very much agreed with Gryn's view.

"Jaime, I'll leave our sister Cersei to you."

Jaime thought for a moment. "All right, I have an idea. Princess Myrcella has been wanting to learn a few braids from Cersei. Cersei's been in a good mood lately and has plenty of patience. Today's perfect."

Tyrion grinned. "My poor niece. Her mother usually doesn't have much patience for that sort of thing. Myrcella will be thrilled all day."

Jaime shook his head with a smile. "Cersei won't have a free moment all morning. Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on her."

Jaime was about to leave, but suddenly stopped. "Tyrion, what are you planning to do in a bit?"

Tyrion looked puzzled. "Go back to bed. They're still under the covers. I want to spend a little more time with them."

As if. Jaime's eyes shifted slightly. In a serious tone, he said, "I'm still a little worried. The Crackclaw Point has a deep-seated hatred of Lord Jon."

Jaime's expression was grave. Tyrion stared at him, then nodded in agreement.

"I'll assign you a group of Red Cloaks, just in case. Whatever happens, keep Gryn safe until I get there."

The Red Keep, Tower of the Hand.

Gryn handed Lord Jon's invitation to the guards at the Tower of the Hand.

The guard carefully inspected the invitation, told Gryn to go to the study on the second floor, and stepped aside.

Gryn left Mutton and Anguy outside, then entered the Tower of the Hand.

"Good day, Lord Gryn Crabb."

Gryn had crossed the spacious hall of the Tower of the Hand and reached the stairs.

A stranger's voice, with a slight lilt, made Gryn stop.

A plump, bald man in a loose robe stood to one side of the stairs, his hands clasped together.

Varys? Gryn raised an eyebrow and touched his chest in greeting. "Good day, my lord."

Varys ambled closer. "The intelligence shining in your eyes tells me you recognized me."

Gryn nodded slightly. "Forgive my forwardness. I made a point of asking about the important people in the Red Keep, Lord Varys."

Varys nodded with a broad smile. "It's a very good habit to familiarize yourself with an unfamiliar place beforehand."

Varys's gaze was amiable. "Though I'm honored that you count me among the important people, my lord, I must defend myself. Here, I'm merely a humble nobody. They only spare me a glance when they need something from me. Otherwise, they keep a polite distance."

Gryn smiled. "I think I know why."

"Oh?"

Varys looked suitably puzzled, as if he were very curious to hear Gryn's answer.

Gryn lowered his voice deliberately. "They're guilty. Don't forget your position, Master of Whisperers."

Varis laughed with delight. "What a curious answer."

Gryn smiled without replying.

Varis took a polite look at Gryn. "Lord Gryn, I just came from Lord Jon's study. We spoke about you."

Before Gryn could answer, Varys continued, "Lord Petyr, the Master of Coin, doesn't have the full picture. I was simply doing my duty as Master of Whisperers and filling Lord Jon in."

Gryn's thoughts stirred. "Thank you. Thanks to your diligence, my meeting with the Hand of the King may be much easier?"

Varys nodded. "It was always meant to be a pleasant meeting, Lord Gryn."

"I feel for the injustice done to Lyanna Crabb. If you have the chance, please pass along my best wishes."

With that, Varys turned slightly and extended a hand toward the stairs. "Go on, my lord. Don't keep Lord Jon waiting. Until next time."