To save time is to lengthen life.

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The eunuch gave him a slimy smile and watched him sharply reenex. Trying to murder one of the king’s own blood, you mean. Tyrion wondered if Varys knew rather more than he was saying. Nothing he’d just heard was new to him; Bronn had brought back much the same reports. He needed a link to Cersei, some sign that Ser Mandon had been his sister’s catspaw. What we want is not always what we get, he reflected bitterly, which reminded him... “It is not Ser Mandon who brings me here.” “To be sure.” The eunuch crossed the room to his flagon of water. “May I serve you, my lord?” he asked as he filled a cup. “Yes. But not with water.” He folded his hands together. “I want you to bring me Shae.” Varys took a drink. “Is that wise, my lord? The dear sweet child. it would be such a shame if your father hanged her.” It did not surprise him that Varys knew. “No, it’s not wise, it’s bloody madness. I want to see her one last time, before I send her away. I cannot abide having her so close.” “I understand.” How could you?

Tyrion had seen her only yesterday, climbing the serpentine steps with a pail of water. He had watched as a young knight had offered to carry the heavy pail. The way she had touched his arm and smiled for him had tied Tyrion’s guts into knots. They passed within inches of each other, him descending and her climbing, so close that he could smell the clean fresh scent of her hair. “M’lord,” she’d said to him, with a little curtsy, and he wanted to reach out and grab her and kiss her right there, but all he could do was nod stiffly and waddle on past BU BBA.

“I have seen her several times,” he told Varys, “but I dare not speak to her. I suspect that all my movements are being watched.” “You are wise to suspect so, my good lord.” “Who?” He cocked his head. “The Kettleblacks report frequently to your sweet sister.” “When I think of how much coin I paid those wretched... do you think there’s any chance that more gold ?” “There is always a chance, but I should not care to wager on the likelihood. They are knights now, all three, and your sister has promised them further advancement.” A wicked little titter burst from the eunuch’s lips. “And the eldest, Ser Osmund of the Kingsguard, dreams of certain other... favors... as well. You can match the queen coin for coin, I have no doubt, but she has a second purse that is quite inexhaustible.” Seven hells, thought Tyrion. “Are you suggesting that Cersei’s fucking Osmund Kettleblack hospitality jobs in singapore?”