A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin Page A

finish.”
    â€œ
Important
letters. To be sure.”
    â€œSome battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens. Spare me these coy reproaches, Tyrion. I visited your sickbed as often as Maester Ballabar would allow it, when you seemed like to die.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Why did you dismiss Ballabar?”
    Tyrion shrugged. “Maester Frenken is not so determined to keep me insensate.”
    â€œBallabar came to the city in Lord Redwyne’s retinue. A gifted healer, it’s said. It was kind of Cersei to ask him to look after you. She feared for your life.”
    Feared that I might keep it, you mean
. “Doubtless that’s why she’s never once left my bedside.”
    â€œDon’t be impertinent. Cersei has a royal wedding to plan, I am waging a war, and you have been out of danger for at least a fortnight.” Lord Tywin studied his son’s disfigured face, his pale green eyes unflinching. “Though the wound is ghastly enough, I’ll grant you. What madness possessed you?”
    â€œThe foe was at the gates with a battering ram. If Jaime had led the sortie, you’d call it valor.”
    â€œJaime would never be so foolish as to remove his helm in battle. I trust you killed the man who cut you?”
    â€œOh, the wretch is dead enough.” Though it had been Podrick Payne who’d killed Ser Mandon, shoving him into the river to drown beneath the weight of his armor. “A dead enemy is a joy forever,” Tyrion said blithely, though Ser Mandon was not his true enemy. The man had no reason to want him dead.
He was only a catspaw, and I believe I know the cat. She told him to make certain I did not survive the battle
. But without proof Lord Tywin would never listen to such a charge. “Why are you here in the city, Father?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting Lord Stannis or Robb Stark or someone?”
And the sooner the better
.
    â€œUntil Lord Redwyne brings his fleet up, we lack the ships to assail Dragonstone. It makes no matter. Stannis Baratheon’s sun set on the Blackwater. As for Stark, the boy is still in the west, but a large force of northmen under Helman Tallhart and Robett Glover are descending toward Duskendale. I’ve sent Lord Tarly to meet them, while Ser Gregor drives up the kingsroad to cut off their retreat. Tallhart and Glover will be caught between them, with a third of Stark’s strength.”
    â€œDuskendale?” There was nothing at Duskendale worth such a risk. Had the Young Wolf finally blundered?
    â€œIt’s nothing you need trouble yourself with. Your face is pale as death, and there’s blood seeping through your dressings. Say what you want and take yourself back to bed.”
    â€œWhat I want . . .” His throat felt raw and tight. What
did
he want?
More than you can ever give me, Father
. “Pod tells me that Littlefinger’s been made Lord of Harrenhal.”
    â€œAn empty title, so long as Roose Bolton holds the castle for Robb Stark, yet Lord Baelish was desirous of the honor. He did us good service in the matter of the Tyrell marriage. A Lannister pays his debts.”
    The Tyrell marriage had been Tyrion’s notion, in point of fact, but it would seem churlish to try to claim that now. “That title may not be as empty as you think,” he warned. “Littlefinger does nothing without good reason. But be that as it may. You said something about paying debts, I believe?”
    â€œAnd you want your own reward, is that it? Very well. What is it you would have of me? Lands, castle, some office?”
    â€œA little bloody gratitude would make a nice start.”
    Lord Tywin stared at him, unblinking. “Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys, for that matter. You did as you were commanded, and I am sure it was to the best of your ability. No one denies the part you