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"
Lord
Eddard
,
"
a
man
echoed
from
the
dark
.
Groaning
,
Eddard
Stark
opened
his
eyes
.
Moonlight
streamed
through
the
tall
windows
of
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
.
"
Lord
Eddard
?
"
A
shadow
stood
over
the
bed
.
"
How
...
how
long
?
"
The
sheets
were
tangled
,
his
leg
splinted
and
plastered
.
A
dull
throb
of
pain
shot
up
his
side
.
"
Six
days
and
seven
nights
.
"
The
voice
was
Vayon
Poole
's
.
The
steward
held
a
cup
to
Ned
's
lips
.
"
Drink
,
my
lord
.
"
"
What
...
?
"
"
Only
water
.
Maester
Pycelle
said
you
would
be
thirsty
.
"
Ned
drank
.
His
lips
were
parched
and
cracked
.
The
water
tasted
sweet
as
honey
.
"
The
king
left
orders
,
"
Vayon
Poole
told
him
when
the
cup
was
empty
.
"
He
would
speak
with
you
,
my
lord
.
"
"
On
the
morrow
,
"
Ned
said
.
"
When
I
am
stronger
.
"
He
could
not
face
Robert
now
.
The
dream
had
left
him
weak
as
a
kitten
.
