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"Heh, Clym, did it never cross your mind that I might simply turn you in?"
Hearing Crey's words, Glye did not answer at once. Instead, he threw the question back at him.
"If you don't turn us in, you can rise in rank and get rich.
If you do turn us in, it only takes one of us escaping for you to spend the rest of your life wondering when your family will end up like Janos Slynt's did—slaughtered in their sleep.
After all, the North remembers."
Crey did not speak with any particular ferocity. He merely stated a fact, his expression blank and his voice calm.
Even so, those words made the hair on the back of Glye's neck stand on end. Forcing a smile, he replied:
"An order came in today to move half our forces to assist with the search. I can use that as an excuse to assign you to the shift just before dawn."
"Then before that, let's enjoy ourselves a little.
There's still some time before the смена of the guard, isn't there, Captain Glye?
You struck it rich today. Don't you think you should buy the round?
Usually, I'm the one paying."
At that, Crey's face broke into a smile, and he spoke in the tone of an old friend.
Glye discreetly wiped the cold sweat from his brow and answered:
"No problem. Call them in and take your pick."
Crey and the others remained there until it was nearly dawn. Only then did they straighten their clothes and head toward the South Tower to take over the guard shift.
When the five of them arrived at the South Tower, forty Gold Cloaks had just gathered in the open space beneath it for the смена.
"Deputy Commander Glye!"
At the sight of him approaching with his men, the Gold Cloaks immediately saluted.
"Mm. Blake, Dax… you five will stand guard with me.
The rest of you can go home and rest. Tomorrow morning, you'll head to Flea Bottom to assist in the search for Robb Stark."
As soon as he gave the order, aside from the five men he had named, the other Gold Cloaks began murmuring among themselves in low voices.
After all, guarding the South Tower was easy, comfortable duty.
Going out to search for Robb Stark, whose name was already spreading fear throughout King's Landing, was both exhausting and dangerous.
Over the past two days, the number of Gold Cloaks killed in action had already exceeded that of several previous years combined.
Noticing that Glye had chosen his own men, one of the Gold Cloaks spoke up:
"Deputy Commander Glye, we heard the City Watch only needs to send half its forces for the search.
Why does our detachment have to send so many?"
"Because tomorrow is the king's funeral, and part of the Gold Cloaks currently involved in the search will be reassigned to maintain order.
So the City Watch needs to send more men to make up for it. That order came from the Red Keep."
"But—"
"No 'but'! The captain was killed by Robb Stark. I'm the captain here now.
Anyone who disobeys orders will be thrown into the Red Keep's dungeons."
After explaining, and seeing some still trying to argue, Glye frowned and asserted his authority bluntly.
"Yes…"
The Gold Cloaks exchanged glances and responded without enthusiasm.
After the смена, the thirty-five dismissed men returned home, while Glye entered the South Tower with Crey and nine others.
After collecting iron-tipped spears and service swords from the armory, they went up to take over the night watch.
In truth, the work was indeed light. Glye and the others spent their time chatting idly, boasting and trading crude jokes as the hours passed slowly.
Shortly before dawn, Robb, dressed in black and carrying Ice across his back, arrived at the residential district by the North Tower, opposite the South Tower.
The moment he entered that area, a boy of eight or nine approached him and held out his right hand.
Already used to it, Robb took out a silver stag and handed it over.
After taking the coin, the boy pointed ahead and began walking.
Understanding he was being guided, Robb followed him in silence.
After passing through several streets and narrow alleys, they arrived at a house located between the north gate of the Red Keep and the North Tower itself.
Creeeak.
Without ceremony, the boy pushed open the unlocked door and went inside.
Once inside, he crouched with practiced ease, felt along the floor for a moment, lifted a wooden plank, and jumped into the opening beneath.
A secret passage.
For years, Varys had controlled every hidden passage beneath the Red Keep. Much of his most valuable intelligence was gathered and transmitted by his little birds through those tunnels.
Robb did not hesitate and jumped down after the boy.
If Varys had wanted to harm him, he had already had countless opportunities. There was no reason to wait until now.
The tunnel was built of stone, nearly two meters high and just over a meter wide.
At regular intervals, small oil lamps were fixed to the walls. Their dim, yellow light barely illuminated the ground beneath their feet.
The boy ahead noticed Robb pause briefly and began gesturing insistently for him to keep moving.
Robb stopped observing the tunnel and followed again.
Beneath the Red Keep, the tunnels spread like a spider's web, intersecting in an orderly pattern.
They passed through stone corridors and sections of packed earth supported by wooden beams. After nearly twenty minutes, the boy finally stopped and pointed upward.
Robb raised his eyes and saw a square vertical shaft above them, about seventy centimeters wide. A line of iron handholds ran up the wall, disappearing into darkness.
The shaft was deep. With the weak lamplight, the top could not be seen.
Having come this far, there was no reason to hesitate.
But just as Robb prepared to climb, the boy tugged at his cloak and curled his fingers twice, mimicking the motion of knocking three times.
That must be the signal Varys had arranged.
Robb nodded, grasped the iron handholds, and began climbing.
It was dark, cramped, and irritation soon crept in.
Men are made to prefer the light.
After nearly ten minutes of climbing that narrow shaft, Robb could feel negative emotions building in his chest.
Forcing himself to stay calm, he continued upward for several more minutes until his hand finally touched an iron hatch above.
Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.
Creeeak.
After knocking as instructed, the hatch opened with a soft sound, and a sudden burst of light made his eyes burn.
"Lord Robb, welcome to the Tower of the Hand."
Before he could even fully open his eyes, he heard Varys's smooth voice.
Robb closed his eyes briefly, waited for the pain to pass, and when he opened them again, his vision had adjusted to the light.
Before him stood Varys, now disguised with a full beard, dressed in a jailer's uniform, a sword at his waist and a lit torch in hand, smiling at him.
Robb climbed the last steps, stepped out of the passage, and stood upright before asking immediately:
"Lord Varys, every time I see you, you're in a different disguise.
But tell me… why have we come to the Tower of the Hand instead of going straight to the black cells?"
"Lord Robb, you are truly eager to see Lord Eddard.
That passage only allows entry into the Tower of the Hand from outside the city. And the route to the black cells also runs through the tower."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."
Hearing the explanation, Robb frowned and answered at once.
"Mm. Then come with me."
Seeing how impatient he was, Varys shook his head slightly and turned to lead the way.
At that moment, they stood within the private chambers of the Tower of the Hand. They crossed a corridor and entered the tower's audience chamber.
It was not a large hall. Round windows with golden frames were adorned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon. The Myrish carpet covering the floor bore the same sigil.
At the center stood a long dark-red wooden table, surrounded by seven tall chairs.
Varys drew a dagger from his robes, lifted the carpet beside the table, and pried up a stone slab.
Another secret passage revealed itself before Robb.
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