Tywin opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but all that poured out was great mouthfuls of blood.
His body convulsed violently a few times, his eyes rapidly lost focus, and finally his head lolled to one side as he slumped onto the cold privy seat.
The lion had fallen, dying in the most sordid, humiliating place.
Tyrion dropped the crossbow and turned to leave the privy without giving his father so much as a final glance.
He reached the doorway and nodded to "Varys," who stood guard there.
"Varys" asked no questions. He immediately led Tyrion back into the castle's shadows.
They did not leave the main keep, but headed toward another tower.
"Varys" deftly avoided the guards and led Tyrion to a secluded room in the tower, where he easily picked the lock with a slender tool.
Inside, a red-haired girl in a plain dress spun around like a startled fawn. It was Sansa Stark.
Her blue eyes were filled with terror, but a flicker of surprise and confusion passed through them when she saw "Varys" and Tyrion.
"Come with me, Lady Sansa, if you want to live and leave this place."
"Varys" spoke quickly.
Sansa looked at Tyrion, then at "Varys." Remembering how Tyrion had offered her some measure of protection in King's Landing, and remembering her own miserable circumstances, she nodded firmly with almost no hesitation.
Taking advantage of the darkest hours of the night and the gap between guard changes, the three of them, under "Varys's" uncannily skillful guidance, finally crawled through a hidden drainage outlet beneath Duskendale's walls and vanished into the boundless darkness.
Almost at the very moment Tyrion and Sansa disappeared through the drainage outlet.
The real Varys quietly arrived at Duskendale's dungeon.
He had caught a whiff of something unusual.