A Clash of Kings (A Song of Ice and Fire, #2)

by George R.R. Martin

Littlefinger was the last. “Shall I tell the steward to prepare chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast?” “My thanks, Lord Petyr, but I will be taking Lord Stark’s former quarters in the Tower of the Hand.” Littlefinger laughed. “You’re a braver man than me, Lannister. You do know the fate of our last two Hands?” “Two? If you mean to frighten me, why not say four?” “Four?” Littlefinger raised an eyebrow. “Did the Hands before Lord Arryn meet some dire end in the Tower? I’m afraid I was too young to pay them much mind.” “Aerys Targaryen’s last Hand was killed during the Sack of King’s Landing, though I doubt he’d had time to settle into the Tower. He was only Hand for a fortnight. The one before him was burned to death. And before them came two others who died landless and penniless in exile, and counted themselves lucky. I believe my lord father was the last Hand to depart King’s Landing with his name, properties, and parts all intact.” “Fascinating,” said Littlefinger. “And all the more reason I’d sooner bed down in the dungeon.” Perhaps you’ll get that wish, Tyrion thought, but he said, “Courage and folly are cousins, or so I’ve heard. Whatever curse may linger over the Tower of the Hand, I pray I’m small enough to escape its notice.”