Jaqen's figure vanished behind the door, as though he had never been there.
Lynn sat back down at the table and looked at the clay jar filled with grain.
The House of Black and White.
Blood Magic.
Jaqen had said little, but his words contained a great deal of information.
That ancient, mysterious organization of assassins was deeply wary of his dragons and his power.
They wanted balance.
And he, Lynn, was the one who had upset that balance.
"Offer up this 'gift' that even the gods cannot refuse?"
Lynn picked up a piece of beef from his plate and put it in his mouth.
It tasted good.
They really were getting above themselves.
Forget it. I have my hands full, and there's no hurry to go to Braavos.
If I want something, I'll take it myself.
For now, he only needed to wait.
Wait for the situation in the South to become a little more interesting.
Like a pot of rich soup simmering on the fire, it needed someone to keep adding new ingredients.
And he trusted that the fat man named Varys in King's Landing would make an excellent cook.
King's Landing, the Red Keep.
King Joffrey Baratheon was in a foul mood.
He kicked over the low table in front of him, sending the golden goblet and fruit platter crashing to the floor.
"Useless! Every last one of you!"
He roared at the trembling attendants before him.
His face was flushed red with anger, and the flames of humiliation burned in his blue eyes.
Ever since his damned grandfather, Tywin Lannister, had returned to King's Landing, he had felt like a joke.
Everyone revolved around that old man.
His commands, his will, counted for less in this castle than a fart from his grandfather.
*He was