Chayle gaped at him, still halfasleep. And so Ned had come striding into the council chambers, bonetired and dressed in borrowed clothing, to find four members of the small council waiting for him. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. A fine victory, Ser Kevan said when he saw Tyrion.
The king grinned. MARTINsoon. The war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind.
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