Nearby, Marillion the singer sat oiling his woodharp, complaining of what the damp was doing to his strings. He thought Jon was angry at him. Every finger wore a ring; some had two. tent, Drogo's bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night.
His voice was hoarse. That clouded the mind as well, yet not as badly. He walked to the Lord Commander's Tower alone, with a curious sense of apprehension. Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester.
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