Just then, a small, thin man in coarse gray clothes walked in. His appearance was so ordinary that, if he were dropped into a crowd, he might immediately vanish from sight.
His name was Gray Rat, and he was Alliser's assistant. Once an intelligence broker in Braavos, he had been forced to flee after offending the Sealord. Alliser had later discovered him and recruited him.
"How are things in Westeros?" Viserys asked him.
Gray Rat's voice was hoarse. "Your Majesty, my lords. Robert Baratheon has sunk even deeper into drunkenness. They say he drinks a barrel of wine every day. Jon Arryn's health worsens by the day, and he often coughs up blood. Tywin Lannister has shut himself away in Casterly Rock, but the armies of the Westerlands are secretly mobilizing and taking up positions along the borders."
"Good. Keep gathering intelligence on Westeros. We're discussing how to fan the flames there."
Gray Rat raised his head. "What do you have in mind, Your Majesty?"
"Rumors." A faint smile curved Viserys's lips. "Rumors about the parentage of Robert's three children. Sometimes a rumor cuts deeper than any weapon."
Viserys then outlined the plan aloud.
Through sailors on merchant ships and wandering singers, they would spread veiled rumors simultaneously in Westeros's five major ports. The wording could not be too blunt, but it had to give people pause and set their imaginations running.
"Golden hair, black hair-how strange. Can a stag and a lion produce little lions of pure gold?"
"Or things like, 'They say the queen was very close to her younger brother even before she married.'"
Gray Rat quickly wrote it down. "We could turn these into rhymes and songs. They'll spread more easily."
"Exactly," Viserys said. "Find a few reliable wandering singers, pay them, and have them compose