A brief, deathly silence fell over the tower.
Marwyn held his breath, not daring to answer.
He could even hear his heart pounding against his ribs, the sound unnervingly clear in the empty tower.
He lowered his head, afraid to look at Aegon's face or at the pages still lying open in the thick tome.
But Aegon did not wait for his response.
He glanced down at the thick tome in his hands and suddenly asked:
"That man you mentioned, the one driven out of the Citadel thirty years ago-was his name Qyburn?"
Marwyn froze.
His mouth fell open, and a flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes.
How did His Highness know Qyburn's name?
The man who had been stripped of his maester's chain and expelled from the Citadel had long since had his name erased from its official records. Even many of the younger apprentices knew nothing of that history.
Suppressing his bewilderment, he answered quietly, "Yes, Your Highness. His name was indeed Qyburn."
Aegon asked no further questions.
He merely nodded slightly, as though he had expected that answer all along, as though he were only confirming something he already knew.
Then he did something Marwyn had never anticipated-
He held the thick tome to the flame of a nearby candle.
The dry paper caught fire at once.
Orange-red tongues of flame licked across the pages, greedily devouring the yellowed paper.
The ink twisted in the heat, blackened, and turned to ash. The words recording generations of painstaking research warped in the flames.
Fire climbed along the spine, scorching the leather cover until it curled and cracked with a sizzling hiss.
Holding the burning book, Aegon turned and walked toward the nearest row of shelves.
He brought the flames to the spines that had gathered dust for years.