Illyrio seemed to have heard the greatest joke in the world. His low laughter suddenly erupted in the empty, sinister passage, carrying a strange echo, like countless ghosts shrieking and wailing between the rock walls.
"Heh heh heh... my dear friend, they vanished a century ago. Their bones have turned to ash! That's even less believable than a Myrish merchant's guarantee."
He laughed until all his fat shook, the gems on his rings flashing wildly in the darkness.
The gaze beneath Varys's scars did not waver. "Those were Eddard Stark's exact words, spoken by him before King Robert and all his senior ministers."
The fat on Illyrio's face twitched. Uncertainty flickered in his little eyes, and his plump hand unconsciously began twisting his mustache again as he sought a reasonable explanation. "Hmm... even for a Stark, after such a crushing defeat, with the fleet reduced to ashes and countless nobles captured or drowned, under such immense pressure, it isn't entirely impossible that he invented an excuse about a Great Dragon to shirk responsibility or steady the army's wavering morale."
Varys's gaze pierced sharply at his old friend through the gaps in his false scars, and he lowered his voice further:
"Old friend, put aside that Pentoshi merchant's thinking. Only the Others would believe Eddard Stark would lie to shirk responsibility. He values his honor more than his own life.
"If that damned 'Dragon' didn't truly exist, then tell me, how could four hundred warships drawn from the strongest navies of the Seven Kingdoms,
"and tens of thousands of elite troops, have been annihilated overnight on the open sea by some unknown Easterner, leaving even the king to flee in disgrace?"
He paused, torchlight dancing in his eyes. "That Easterner brought more than strange sorcery and an Undead Legion impervious to