Arya passed those cages, seeing only corpses, death, and the pleas of the dying. Crows fluttered outside the cages, carrion-eating crows, along with blood and flies. The cages were so small, yet people had been forcibly crammed inside.
Some of the dead had dried-out sockets, their eyes pecked away by birds. Some of the wounded had red skin all over and kept mumbling, "Water. Water." Their wounds lay exposed, maggots crawling back and forth over them. Rapists had their manhood cut off, thieves their hands.
Valar morghulis, Arya recited silently.
"This boy's got some courage," a Riverlands commoner praised. Arya was thin and flat-chested, and her hair looked the part too.
"She's a girl," Harwin corrected him.
"Then that's even more remarkable."
"Good." Harwin patted Arya's shoulder approvingly. "You're like one of us northerners. I thought you'd plead for them."
Arya shook her head. "When the Lannisters drove my wolf away, when so many people died for my father, I knew they were our enemies..."
Chapter 334: The Knight with the Severed Hand
Casterly Rock stretched between heaven and earth. The castle had been carved from a massive rock, and the walls and other buildings built upon it made its defenses even stronger.
Milk-white and gold clashed with one another. Jaime Lannister felt as though he had become a collection of contradictions.
Jaime's stump had healed, but that hand would never grow back. He had fitted himself with a golden hand, and wore a golden mask over his face to conceal the long scar. Besides these, he wore golden armor and a milk-white cloak.
The pain of his injury and disfigurement had aged him several years. His face had grown gaunt, his eyes sunken, with lines of worry added to them.
"Your father is waiting for you in the Council