George R.R. Martin - A Dance With Dragons - Part 1 Dreams and Dust

Yes, Father, Tyrion almost said. “As you say, my lord.”

“I am no lord.”

Liar. “It was a courtesy, my friend.”

“I am not your friend either.”

No knight, no lord, no friend. “A pity.”

“Spare me your irony. I will take you as far as Volantis. If you show yourself to be obedient and useful, you may remain with us, to serve the queen as best you can. Prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way.”

Aye, and my way will take me to the bottom of the Rhoyne with fish nibbling at what’s left of my nose. “Valar dohaeris.”

“You may sleep on the deck or in the hold, as you prefer. Ysilla will find bedding for you.”

“How kind of her.” Tyrion made a waddling bow, but at the cabin door, he turned back. “What if we should find the queen and discover that this talk of dragons was just some sailor’s drunken fancy? This wide world is full of such mad tales. Grumkins and snarks, ghosts and ghouls, mermaids, rock goblins, winged horses, winged pigs … winged lions.”

Griff stared at him, frowning. “I have given you fair warning, Lannister. Guard your tongue or lose it. Kingdoms are at hazard here. Our lives, our names, our honor. This is no game we’re playing for your amusement.”

Of course it is, thought Tyrion. The game of thrones. “As you say, Captain,” he murmured, bowing once again.

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