“I once held a dragon’s egg in this hand, brother. This Myrish wizard swore he could hatch it if I gave him a year and all the gold that he required. When I grew bored with his excuses, I slew him. As he watched his entrails sliding through his fingers, he said, ‘But it has not been a year.’” He laughed. “Cragorn’s died, you know.” “Who?” “The man who blew my dragon horn. When the maester cut him open, his lungs were charred as black as soot.”
