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"
I
am
,
"
Pycelle
replied
gravely
.
"
If
not
illness
,
my
good
lord
,
what
else
could
it
be
?
"
"
Poison
,
"
Ned
suggested
quietly
.
Pycelle
's
sleepy
eyes
flicked
open
.
The
aged
maester
shifted
uncomfortably
in
his
seat
.
"
A
disturbing
thought
.
We
are
not
the
Free
Cities
,
where
such
things
are
common
.
Grand
Maester
Aethelmure
wrote
that
all
men
carry
murder
in
their
hearts
,
yet
even
so
,
the
poisoner
is
beneath
contempt
.
"
He
fell
silent
for
a
moment
,
his
eyes
lost
in
thought
.
"
What
you
suggest
is
possible
,
my
lord
,
yet
I
do
not
think
it
likely
.
Every
hedge
maester
knows
the
common
poisons
,
and
Lord
Arryn
displayed
none
of
the
signs
.
And
the
Hand
was
loved
by
all
.
What
sort
of
monster
in
man
's
flesh
would
dare
to
murder
such
a
noble
lord
?
"
"
I
have
heard
it
said
that
poison
is
a
woman
's
weapon
.
"
Pycelle
stroked
his
beard
thoughtfully
.
"
It
is
said
.
Women
,
cravens
...
and
eunuchs
.
"
He
cleared
his
throat
and
spat
a
thick
glob
of
phelm
onto
the
rushes
.
Above
them
,
a
raven
cawed
loudly
in
the
rookery
.
"
The
Lord
Varys
was
born
a
slave
in
Lys
,
did
you
know
?
Put
not
your
trust
in
spiders
,
my
lord
.
"
That
was
scarcely
anything
Ned
needed
to
be
told
;
there
was
something
about
Varys
that
made
his
flesh
crawl
.
"
I
will
remember
that
,
Maester
.
And
I
thank
you
for
your
help
.
I
have
taken
enough
of
your
time
.
"
He
stood
.
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
pushed
himself
up
from
his
chair
slowly
and
escorted
Ned
to
the
door
.
"
I
hope
I
have
helped
in
some
small
way
to
put
your
mind
at
ease
.
If
there
is
any
other
service
I
might
perform
,
you
need
only
ask
.
"
"
One
thing
,
"
Ned
told
him
.
"
I
should
be
curious
to
examine
the
book
that
you
lent
Jon
the
day
before
he
fell
ill
.
"
"
I
fear
you
would
find
it
of
little
interest
,
"
Pycelle
said
.
"
It
was
a
ponderous
tome
by
Grand
Maester
Malleon
on
the
lineages
of
the
great
houses
.
"
