There are so many books at the Citadel that no man can hope to read them all. By the next morning little remained of the Frey encampment but flies, horse dung, and Ser Ryman's gallows, standing forlorn beside the Turn-blestone. If you're fortunate, one man in ten may keep that vow. The surcoat he wore above his steel had once been white, and here and there still was, beneath the grass stains and dried blood.
Have they all swallowed their tongues? Cersei thought, with irritation. said the priest in black and white. 'Tou have sons, he told his brother. A woman freakish big and freakish strong who hides her own true colors.
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