“They have my son,” Tywin Lannister said.

“They do, my lord.” The messenger’s voice was dulled by exhaustion. On the breast of his tornsurcoat, the brindled boar of Crakehall was half-obscured by dried blood.

One of your sons, Tyrion thought. He took a sip of wine and said not a word, thinking of Jaime.

When he lifted his arm, pain shot through his elbow, reminding him of his own brief taste of battle.

He loved his brother, but he would not have wanted to be with him in the Whispering Wood for allthe gold in Casterly Rock.

His lord father’s assembled captains and bannermen had fallen very quiet as the courier told histale. The only sound was the crackle and hiss of the log burning in the hearth at the end of the long,drafty common room.

After the hardships of the long relentless drive south, the prospect of even a single night in an innhad cheered Tyrion mightily … though he rather wished it had not been this inn again, with all itsmemories. His father had set a grueling pace, and it had taken its toll. Men wounded in the battle keptup as best they could or were abandoned to fend for themselves. Every morning they left a few moreby the roadside, men who went to sleep never to wake. Every afternoon a few more collapsed alongthe way. And every evening a few more deserted, stealing off into the dusk. Tyrion had been half-tempted to go with them.

He had been upstairs, enjoying the comfort of a featherbed and the warmth of Shae’s body besidehim, when his squire had woken him to say that a rider had arrived with dire news of Riverrun. So ithad all been for nothing. The rush south, the endless forced marches, the bodies left beside theroad … all for naught. Robb Stark had reached Riverrun days and days ago.

“How could this happen?” Ser Harys Swyft moaned. “How? Even after the Whispering Wood,you had Riverrun ringed in iron, surrounded by a great host … what madness made Ser Jaime decideto split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knew how vulnerable that would leave them?”

Better than you, you chinless craven, Tyrion thought. Jaime might have lost Riverrun, but itangered him to hear his brother slandered by the likes of Swyft, a shameless lickspittle whose greatestaccomplishment was marrying his equally chinless daughter to Ser Kevan, and thereby attachinghimself to the Lannisters.

“I would have done the same,” his uncle responded, a good deal more calmly than Tyrion mighthave. “You have never seen Riverrun, Ser Harys, or you would know that Jaime had little choice inthe matter. The castle is situated at the end of the point of land where the Tumblestone flows into theRed Fork of the Trident. The rivers form two sides of a triangle, and when danger threatens, theTullys open their sluice gates upstream to create a wide moat on the third side, turning Riverrun intoan island. The walls rise sheer from the water, and from their towers the defenders have acommanding view of the opposite shores for many leagues around. To cut off all the approaches, abesieger must needs place one camp north of the Tumblestone, one south of the Red Fork, and a thirdbetween the rivers, west of the moat. There is no other way, none.”

“Ser Kevan speaks truly, my lords,” the courier said. “We’d built palisades of sharpened stakesaround the camps, yet it was not enough, not with no warning and the rivers cutting us off from eachother. They came down on the north camp first. No one was expecting an attack. Marq Piper had beenraiding our supply trains, but he had no more than fifty men. Ser Jaime had gone out to deal withthem the night before … well, with what we thought was them. We were told the Stark host waseast of the Green Fork, marching south …”

“And your outriders?” Ser Gregor Clegane’s face might have been hewn from rock. The fire inthe hearth gave a somber orange cast to his skin and put deep shadows in the hollows of his eyes.

“They saw nothing? They gave you no warning?”

The bloodstained messenger shook his head. “Our outriders had been vanishing. Marq Piper’swork, we thought. The ones who did come back had seen nothing.”

“A man who sees nothing has no use for his eyes,” the Mountain declared. “Cut them out and givethem to your next outrider. Tell him you hope that four eyes might see better than two … and if not,the man after him will have six.”

Lord Tywin Lannister turned his face to study Ser Gregor. Tyrion saw a glimmer of gold as thelight shone off his father’s pupils, but he could not have said whether the look was one of approval ordisgust. Lord Tywin was oft quiet in council, preferring to listen before he spoke, a habit Tyrionhimself tried to emulate. Yet this silence was uncharacteristic even for him, and his wine wasuntouched.

“You said they came at night,” Ser Kevan prompted.

The man gave a weary nod. “The Blackfish led the van, cutting down our sentries and clearingaway the palisades for the main assault. By the time our men knew what was happening, riders werepouring over the ditch banks and galloping through the camp with swords and torches in hand. I wassleeping in the west camp, between the rivers. When we heard the fighting and saw the tents beingfired, Lord Brax led us to the rafts and we tried to pole across, but the current pushed us downstreamand the Tullys started flinging rocks at us with the catapults on their walls. I saw one raft smashed tokindling and three others overturned, men swept into the river and drowned … and those who didmake it across found the Starks waiting for them on the riverbanks.”

Ser Flement Brax wore a silver-and-purple tabard and the look of a man who cannot comprehendwhat he has just heard. “My lord father—”

“Sorry, my lord,” the messenger said. “Lord Brax was clad in plate-and-mail when his raftoverturned. He was very gallant.”

He was a fool, Tyrion thought, swirling his cup and staring down into the winy depths. Crossing ariver at night on a crude raft, wearing armor, with an enemy waiting on the other side—if that wasgallantry, he would take cowardice every time. He wondered if Lord Brax had felt especially gallantas the weight of his steel pulled him under the black water.

“The camp between the rivers was overrun as well,” the messenger was saying. “While we weretrying to cross, more Starks swept in from the west, two columns of armored horse. I saw LordUmber’s giant-in-chains and the Mallister eagle, but it was the boy who led them, with a monstrouswolf running at his side. I wasn’t there to see, but it’s said the beast killed four men and ripped apart adozen horses. Our spearmen formed up a shieldwall and held against their first charge, but when theTullys saw them engaged, they opened the gates of Riverrun and Tytos Blackwood led a sortie acrossthe drawbridge and took them in the rear.”

“Gods save us,” Lord Lefford swore.

“Greatjon Umber fired the siege towers we were building, and Lord Blackwood found SerEdmure Tully in chains among the other captives, and made off with them all. Our south camp wasunder the command of Ser Forley Prester. He retreated in good order when he saw that the othercamps were lost, with two thousand spears and as many bowmen, but the Tyroshi sellsword who ledhis freeriders struck his banners and went over to the foe.”

“Curse the man.” His uncle Kevan sounded more angry than surprised. “I warned Jaime not totrust that one. A man who fights for coin is loyal only to his purse.”

Lord Tywin wove his fingers together under his chin. Only his eyes moved as he listened. Hisbristling golden sidewhiskers framed a face so still it might have been a mask, but Tyrion could seetiny beads of sweat dappling his father’s shaven head.

“How could it happen?” Ser Harys Swyft wailed again. “Ser Jaime taken, the siege broken … thisis a catastrophe!”

Ser Addam Marbrand said, “I am sure we are all grateful to you for pointing out the obvious, SerHarys. The question is, what shall we do about it?”

“What can we do? Jaime’s host is all slaughtered or taken or put to flight, and the Starks and theTullys sit squarely across our line of supply. We are cut off from the west! They can march onCasterly Rock if they so choose, and what’s to stop them? My lords, we are beaten. We must sue forpeace.”

rpeace.”

“Peace?” Tyrion swirled his wine thoughtfully, took a deep draft, and hurled his empty cup to thefloor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. “There’s your peace, Ser Harys. My sweet nephewbroke it for good and all when he decided to ornament the Red Keep with Lord Eddard’s head. You’llhave an easier time drinking wine from that cup than you will convincing Robb Stark to make peacenow. He’s winning … or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Two battles do not make a war,” Ser Addam insisted. “We are far from lost. I should welcomethe chance to try my own steel against this Stark boy.”

“Perhaps they would consent to a truce, and allow us to trade our prisoners for theirs,” offeredLord Lefford.

“Unless they trade three-for-one, we still come out light on those scales,” Tyrion said acidly.

“And what are we to offer for my brother? Lord Eddard’s rotting head?”

“I had heard that Queen Cersei has the Hand’s daughters,” Lefford said hopefully. “If we give thelad his sisters back …”

Ser Addam snorted disdainfully. “He would have to be an utter ass to trade Jaime Lannister’s lifefor two girls.”

“Then we must ransom Ser Jaime, whatever it costs,” Lord Lefford said.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “If the Starks feel the need for gold, they can melt down Jaime’s armor.”

“If we ask for a truce, they will think us weak,” Ser Addam argued. “We should march on them atonce.”

“Surely our friends at court could be prevailed upon to join us with fresh troops,” said Ser Harys.

“And someone might return to Casterly Rock to raise a new host.”

Lord Tywin Lannister rose to his feet. “They have my son,” he said once more, in a voice that cutthrough the babble like a sword through su............