Faced with Varys' silence, Tyrion grew restless. After a few sips of wine, he leaned toward the small food slot at the bottom of the cell door and called out loudly, "By the Seven, Varys, they only cut off your bits—not your tongue!"
Varys replied calmly, "My lord, half of your current troubles come from that mouth of yours."
Tyrion scoffed. "Without this mouth, I wouldn't be alive right now. I'd have been butchered by those wildlings back in the Vale!" Then, with sudden urgency, he asked, "Varys, do you know something? Tell me. Don't keep me in suspense."
Varys sighed. "My lord, you're a clever man. You should already know where you stand. Why ask me? Didn't your brother Jaime explain it to you?"
Tyrion took another drink, his expression dark. "Father would never let Joffrey..."
"My lord, my lord, my dear lord, after all these years, you still don't understand your place in Lord Tywin's heart." Varys stepped from the shadows, gazing through the bars at Tyrion with a look of pity. "To him, your only worth lies in your ability to sire heirs, to inherit Casterly Rock, to continue the Lannister line. But once you lose that value... what are you to him then? I'd say, nothing but a source of loathing. He hates you for being a twisted dwarf. He hates you for the death of his wife. He hates you for shaming the Lannister name by marrying a whore..."
"Enough! Enough! Not another word!" Tyrion shouted, slamming his wine bottle against the cell door.
"Was it 'dwarf' or 'whore' that struck a nerve?" Varys asked with feigned innocence.
Tyrion glared at him. "Varys, if I could, I'd rip your mouth apart."
Varys chuckled. "Of course. I imagine you would. But first, you'd need to grow a little taller. As you are now, even jumping might not get you that far."
At those words, Tyrion fell silent. His anger faded, replaced by a strange calm. He looked at Varys with narrowed eyes and said in a low voice, "You're not speaking like yourself. What are you really after, Varys? Why provoke me like this?"
"My lord, you truly are perceptive," Varys said with a note of false admiration that sounded more like mockery. "Lord Tywin won't stop His Grace Joffrey from putting you on trial, but he will look for a way to send you to the Wall in black, to spare your life..."
Tyrion replied without hesitation, "No chance. I'll never don the black. Better to die than join the Night's Watch."
Varys shook his head. "You won't have to worry about that. His Majesty Joffrey already plans to abduct you on the road to the Wall and torture you to death in the cruelest ways imaginable. He even sought out Lord Roose Bolton to learn the art of flaying a man alive."
Tyrion trembled at the words. He knew his nephew well enough to believe it—Joffrey's hatred for him ran deep.
"Varys, can you save me?" Tyrion asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Sorry. I can't save you. I'm just a useless eunuch." Varys shrugged, then crouched down and took a small bottle from his pocket, placing it in the food slot. "This is poison. If that day ever comes, you might prefer to end it yourself, and spare yourself the suffering."
Without waiting for a response, he stood up and walked into the darkness of the passageway.
After he left, Tyrion reached out with trembling hands and took the bottle of poison.
Varys exited the cell and slipped into the secret passage, making his way through its twisting paths toward the outside of the Red Keep. Before long, he arrived at the exit near Blackwater Bay.
Suddenly, he stopped and looked toward a shadowy patch beneath a nearby tree.
A voice came from the darkness. "You shouldn't be here."
As the words echoed, another Varys stepped out from the shadows.
Under the dim light of the oil lamp, the two Varys looked almost identical—only their clothing set them apart...
Varys, who had just emerged from the cell, glanced at the other person and asked calmly, "I shouldn't be here? Then where should I be, Lord Varys?"
Varys stared at the figure before him—identical in appearance—and said, "If you want revenge, fine. But you shouldn't do it using my identity. That causes me a great deal of trouble."
"My apologies, Lord Varys." The Varys who had left the cell reached up and wiped a hand across their face, instantly transforming into a woman of the sort commonly seen throughout King's Landing. She then removed the bulky garments she wore, revealing an old, worn dress underneath.
The woman looked at Varys and said, "Sooner or later, someone might need to borrow your face again. When that day comes, our debt will be settled."
"I hope you keep your word," Varys said darkly, his expression grim.
The woman smiled and gave him a polite bow before swiftly making her way along the narrow path that hugged the Blackwater Bay, heading toward the city outside the Red Keep.
As he watched her disappear into the distance, Varys relaxed slightly. His hand slipped away from the hidden dagger beneath his sleeve.
Though the exchange had seemed calm, Varys had sensed that she had seriously considered killing him and assuming his identity. Fortunately, she had decided otherwise.
As for why she gave up, Varys was certain it wasn't out of respect or fear of him. He guessed it was likely because of Lynd Tarran, who was currently in the city. Taking Varys's place would inevitably lead to contact with Lynd Tarran—and no Faceless Man's disguise could fool him.
...
After leaving the Red Keep, the woman slipped into a narrow alley, weaving through tight streets and passing several corridors until she reached a modest-looking house.
She was about to open the door and enter, but suddenly paused. Turning around, she crossed the street into a dark alley and sat down in a corner, pulling a tattered cloth over herself, dressing down to resemble a beggar waiting quietly for death.
Just as she finished adjusting her disguise, the door to the house across the street opened. Heavily armed soldiers emerged and fanned out, forming a protective perimeter.
Then, a finely dressed young girl stepped out, holding the hand of another girl dressed plainly. The two stood in the doorway, speaking in hushed tones.
Their voices were soft—too quiet to hear clearly, even in such a secluded and silent alley. And even if someone could hear them, understanding would be near impossible. The girls were speaking in a version of the Common Tongue so heavily influenced by the Northern accent that only someone born and raised in the North could follow it.
After a brief conversation, the two reluctantly parted. The richly dressed girl led the soldiers away from the alley, while the plain-dressed girl watched her go. The look of sadness on her face slowly faded, replaced by a cool detachment.
The woman disguised as a beggar threw off her ragged covering, stepped out of the shadows, and approached the girl.
"Someone shouldn't be meeting with her old sisters right now," she said. "Actions like that could easily jeopardize the entire plan."
"If that's true, then why did you go see your former husband?" the girl shot back. "Isn't that even more dangerous?"
The woman's eyes turned icy at her words—so cold that the very air around them seemed to freeze.
Sensing her growing anger, the girl quickly changed the subject. "I went to see Sansa to use her connections—so I could slip into Prince Lynd's entourage and attend the wedding banquet at the Red Keep."
"We already have a plan for getting into the banquet. No one should alter that plan without permission, and certainly not involve Lynd Tarran," the woman said, turning to walk out of the alley. "This base is compromised. We're moving to the next one. Stick to the original plan, and forget that foolish idea of yours."
The girl pouted slightly at the reprimand but said nothing more. She hurried to catch up with the woman, not even bothering to close the door behind her.
...
Soon after, a passerby noticed the open door and, overcome by curiosity, peeked inside. He called out tentatively a couple of times.
When he realized the house was empty, a glint of greed crossed his face. After checking that no one was watching, he slipped inside, scavenged what he could, and ran off.
Then more people began to notice the open house. One by one, they entered, taking anything of value and wiping away all traces of the previous occupants.
By the time Lynd arrived at the house with the holy sisters and the Silent Men, it had been completely ransacked. No clues remained.
"My lord, should we send someone to search for her?" the head of the Miracle Guild in King's Landing leaned in and asked quietly from behind Lynd.
"No need," Lynd shook his head. "You probably wouldn't find her anyway. And even if you did, it might just create more trouble."
When Sansa returned to the residence, she didn't even try to hide what had happened. She knew there was no point—after all, she'd been under the protection of a group of God's Children. Even though the conversation had taken place on the second floor, who could say for sure that none of them had overheard? So the moment she got back, she went straight to Lynd and told him everything.
In truth, Sansa had already seen Arya the day before. But at the time, she hadn't been able to confirm her identity. Arya had seen her too, but perhaps due to resentment toward Sansa, or because of the presence of the God's Children around her, she hadn't dared to approach and instead slipped into the crowd to hide.
Today, Sansa had returned to the same place, hoping Arya might appear again.
And she did. After their emotional reunion and a few words of small talk, Arya didn't give Sansa the chance to bring her to Lynd. Instead, she pulled Sansa along to the place where she was currently staying.
The two spoke at length, but the heart of the matter was Arya's desire to avenge Lord Eddard. She asked Sansa for help, planning to sneak into Joffrey's wedding feast and attempt to assassinate both Joffrey and Lord Tywin.
After hearing Sansa's account, Lynd finally understood who the Patchface prophecy had referred to—the one fated to kill Joffrey.
At first, Lynd hadn't intended to get involved. But suspecting that Arya's plan might interfere with his own, he decided it was worth trying to meet her and learn more—if only to avoid stepping on each other's toes.
Unfortunately, Arya turned out to be far more cautious than he'd expected. She vanished after meeting with Sansa, not giving him the chance to speak with her at all.
Since she had no desire to meet him, Lynd saw no reason to press the matter.
He'd originally considered visiting Tyrion in the dungeon, but once Arya came into the picture with her plan for vengeance, he changed his mind. Over the next few days, both he and Sansa remained at the residence.
...
Two days before the wedding, Cersei's confession ceremony was completed without issue. As she knelt at Lynd's feet and kissed the top of his foot in a show of devotion to the Seven, Lynd was startled to sense in her the fervent zeal of a true fanatic.
"You already completed the trial of piety?" Lynd asked in surprise, glancing at Cersei before turning to the others for confirmation.
"No, this is all part of the confession ceremony," Sister Linda replied, shaking her head. Then she added, "Actually, this kind of case isn't unique. Mother Serelia also became a fanatic right after completing the confession."
Lynd looked at Cersei again, still on her knees, and found it hard to believe she could be compared to Serelia.
Serelia was the most exceptional among the sisters. After completing all her trials and becoming a Redemptive Sister, she had received the Thunder Dragon Rune Mark upon swearing her vow of devotion to Lynd. Just as Lynd could wield the power of the Nameless King's rune, she too could channel the power of her rune mark to command lightning.
Because of that, when the Redemptive Sisters were assembled for the journey to the Wall, Serelia had naturally become their leader—ranking just below Septon Hullen, Sister Melis, and Elder Colin within the Redemption Sept.
"You think she could become another Serelia?" Lynd asked, unconvinced.
"It's possible," Sister Linda replied, though she didn't sound entirely sure.
Lynd paused to think, then asked, "Can we move on to the next trial?"
"Yes," Linda nodded.
"Then let's continue," Lynd decided. "Let's see if we can make her a full Redemptive Sister before the wedding."