"How does my sister have money to buy so much?" Tyrion asked. When the war drums beat, gold flows like water, but where did King's Landing have gold left? It was no secret that King Robert had left the royal family with immense debts after his death, and the Alchemists were by no means selfless.
"My Lord, Littlefinger always finds a way to get money. He has mandated that everyone entering the city must pay a tax."
"Hmm, effective." Tyrion said lightly, but thought: Clever, what a clever and cruel method. Commoners would believe the high walls of King's Landing would bring safety and would flee into the city at all costs. But if they knew King's Landing was hoarding a large amount of wildfire, they might flee immediately. The truth was, squeezing coppers from the poor like this would inevitably lead to widespread resentment.
The inn with the broken anvil sign was within sight of the city walls, near the Gods' Gate, the same gate they had entered that morning. As they entered the courtyard, a small Boy ran up to help Tyrion dismount.
"Take your men back to the castle," Tyrion told Captain Vylar. "I'll spend the night here."
Compared to The Red Keep, Tyrion preferred to stay at this inn with Shae; he was somewhat infatuated with this young whore. But he couldn't expose his weakness to Cersei or other enemies; even his own sister, this was very dangerous. Taking the girl to the Tower of the Hand would mean his vulnerability would be discovered by Cersei and others. Moreover, Tyrion couldn't possibly take her into the palace; he had already defied his father's orders by bringing her to King's Landing.
Captain Vylar hesitated. "My Lord, is it safe here?" This inn looked ordinary, with a chaotic mix of people. How could the hand of the king sleep here at such a time?
"Well, I tell you, Captain, when I left here this morning, it was already full of Black Ears tribe mountain folk. Living with Qira, daughter of Qyke, no one can guarantee safety." After speaking, Tyrion limped towards the door, leaving a bewildered Vylar behind.
Tyrion squeezed into the inn's common room, and a burst of laughter greeted him.
Tyrion recognized Qira's hoarse laugh and Shae's silvery giggle. Qira of the Black Ears tribe was a thin woman with dark skin and a terrifying necklace around her neck. Tyrion had counted them when he had the chance; no more, no less, exactly forty-six dried, shriveled ears strung together.
The girl Shae sat by the hearth. Shae was eighteen, petite and beautiful, with deep eyes and black hair, sipping wine at a round wooden table. Beside her were three of the Black Ears tribe he had left to protect her, and a fat man with his back to him. Tyrion thought it was the innkeeper... "Tyrion, my Lord Lannister." Shae called his name.
The fat man immediately stood up, startling The Imp. It was none other than Varys. Tyrion was surprised; Varys had arrived so quickly. Varys the Master of Whisperers, truly living up to his reputation.
"My dear Lord Tyrion, how good it is to see you." Varys, the eunuch, powdered his face and wore a soft smile, speaking with affected grace.
Tyrion stumbled. "Lord Varys? I didn't expect to meet you here." Tyrion's mind raced: He came so fast. May the Others take this fellow! How did Varys find them so quickly?
"Please forgive me if I've disturbed you," Varys said. "I suddenly felt the urge to call upon your young lady."
"Young lady," Shae repeated, savoring the words. "My Lord, you are only half right; I am merely young."
Tyrion was already somewhat displeased with Shae's behavior. This woman belonged to him, and he didn't need Varys to disturb them.
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