\par About the Mule's mutation, of course. She understood the angry voices now, why Perwyn Frey andMartyn Rivers had left in such haste, trampling Robb's banner into the groundas they went. He's her uncle, and a fair knight besides. Men swarmed about him in the night: red flares in hand, blue lights at their backs, their faces bichromatic and beautiful.
Ser Robin, he shouted, hear me for a moment. Littlefinger's gold is made from thin air, witha snap of his fingers. Put ashore there, andcontinue on to Pentos overland. Sotell me truly, Jon Snow.
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