chapter 194 part 1
Chapter 194: Blood of the Same Source 3
Varys took a sip of wine. "Ah," he said, "sweet as summer. The grapes are singing on my tongue."
Tyrion Lannister quietly watched Varys's performance.
Varys let some of the smile fade from his face. "Lord Hand, I assure you, I did my utmost to serve Hand Arryn and Hand Stark, but..."
He shook his head slightly, a hint of grievance on his face as he continued, "They had their own principles and were firm in their will. As the Master of Whisperers, loathed by all, I was truly powerless."
Tyrion swirled the wine in his cup. "And me?"
Varys smiled faintly, habitually clasping his hands together. "You are... the wisest Hand of the King I have ever known."
Tyrion grinned. "But?"
Varys paused, then chuckled and said, "You understand what power is, or what true strength is, but..."
At this, Varys's lips moved, and he smiled while shaking his head. "The fountain of wisdom of Casterly Rock loves you."
He first offered a compliment before continuing, "Lord Hand, your sword is very frightening. Fear can make people think of resisting, and the consequences will become unpredictable."
Tyrion's mismatched eyes quivered slightly. He gestured with his wine cup and said, "The two brothers of House Baratheon will fight their way to King's Landing sooner or later. I must prepare for war. I have no time to play games with others."
Varys nodded. He sighed and said, "To understand each other's difficulties... it is too hard!"
Tyrion shrugged. "I have to do it this way."
Varys nodded slightly and said with a smile in his eyes, "This is the firm will of the Hand of the King. You see... I still cannot stop it."
Tyrion sneered, "Lord Varys, if I mess this up, I'll be following in the footsteps of the previous Hands... Hmm, I think being poisoned might be a little better than being swallowed alive. I'm very curious about my end."
Varys smiled faintly. "That you can say such a thing means you are not worried about the future."
Tyrion raised his cup and took a small sip. "To my respectable father."
Varys nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Lord Tywin would never allow anyone to harm a Lannister."
Tyrion muttered in a voice only he could hear, "A Lannister."
Seeing Tyrion looking a little distracted, Varys spoke again, "Lord Hand, I must admit, you did a beautiful job this time! You sitting in this position makes my confidence in the kingdom's future double."
Tyrion reached up and rubbed his temples. "Are you referring to the Gold Cloaks?"
Varys's voice was filled with emotion. "It is no great secret that Queen Cersei controls King's Landing with two swords."
Tyrion grinned. "And my good sister is among the few who don't know, I suppose."
Hearing Tyrion's jest, Varys instantly grew tense. "Lord Hand, the Queen is your own sister. I would not dare to make a joke at her expense."
Tyrion waved his hand. "Lord Varys, it was just a private joke. It's because I'm gradually starting to trust you. Continue."
Varys bowed slightly before continuing, "One sword left King's Landing voluntarily, while the other was forced to leave. Of course... there is also a new sword, a decorative sword."
Tyrion's eyes shifted slightly. He sensed that Varys seemed to be probing for something. What did he want to know? The real reason Glyn left King's Landing?
Why would the eunuch want to know this answer... He fell silent for a moment, then said, "The one I should truly thank is my good sister. A loyal sword does not defy orders, even unreasonable ones."
A glint shone in Varys's eyes. He paused, seemingly with regret. "At least he has left the whirlpool of King's Landing..."
Tyrion sneered and said bluntly, "Perhaps Ser Glyn was just homesick."
Varys sighed. "In the Red Keep, it is always the big fish eating the small fish."
Tyrion acted as if he didn't understand Varys's insinuation. "Lord Varys, cheer up. My sister still has the Kingsguard with their pretty cloaks."
Varys lamented, "When Ser Barristan Selmy was dismissed, he threw his sword before the Iron Throne, but he also took with him the last of the Kingsguard's honor."
Tyrion laughed aloud. "A eunuch understands honor?"
Varys's eyes shifted slightly. After a pause, a cunning smile appeared on his face. "A eunuch certainly doesn't understand what honor is, but I think... we may have much in common in our views on honor."
"Haha, I like your frankness."
Tyrion raised his cup in a toast. "How strange, I find I'm growing to like you more and more. Is it because I'm half a man..."
He set down his wine cup and added, "I am short, my legs are malformed, and women have no interest in me, but the gods above have been merciful enough. I am still a man. One day, I might even marry and have children."
"If the gods are gracious, my son will have Jaime's looks and Tywin's mind. But you, you cannot even have such a dream..."
He paused, and Tyrion said seriously, "A dwarf is the gods' mischief, but a eunuch is a sin of mortal men. Varys, what is your true identity?"
Varys's expression was unchanged. "Lord Hand, as you said, a eunuch does not have many choices. I only wish to be a servant of the realm. If I can, I hope my humble abilities can serve a power that can bring stability to the kingdom. Therefore, each time, I do my utmost for that meager wish of mine."
Tyrion stared at Varys for a moment. He tilted his head and said, "Power?"
Varys smiled, his eyes crinkling. "Power is a curious thing... Lord Hand, have you ever thought about that riddle I gave you in the tavern the other day?"
"I've thought about it once or twice..."
Tyrion nodded slightly and said, "A king, a septon, and a rich man. Who dies? Who lives? Lord Varys, this is a riddle without an answer, or rather... it has too many answers. It depends on the choice of the man holding the sword."
Varys smiled faintly. "And yet he is nothing. He has no crown, no gold or jewels, still less the favor of the gods. He has only a sword in his hand."
Tyrion's eyes quivered. "The sword holds the power of life and death."
Varys nodded, the smile on his face gradually fading. "Since the man with the sword is the one who truly decides our life and death, why do we pretend the man on the Iron Throne has the power?"
"For example, this strong man with a sharp sword in hand, why must he obey a little boy like Joffrey, or his father, that drunken lout?"
Tyrion shifted, leaning back in his chair. "Because the little boy and the drunkard can command other strong men, who also have swords."
Varys gazed at Tyrion. "If that is so, are they the ones who truly hold power? And if so, where did their swords come from? And whose words would they choose to listen to?"
He paused, smiled faintly, and continued, "Some say knowledge is power. Some say power comes from the gods. Still others say it comes from law."
"And yet, on that day, in the plaza before the Great Sept of Baelor, our devout High Septon, the lawful Queen Regent, and all the high lords and ladies present were powerless against the rioting commoners."
"Since I came to the Red Keep to serve as Master of Whisperers, I have watched one powerful man after another pass from this world for all sorts of reasons. I have been thinking, who truly killed them? Or perhaps... could it be because those who control power took control of a power they could not bear?"
Tyrion said with great interest, "Lord Varys, it seems you have already found the answer."
Varys smiled and shook his head. "I wouldn't dare call it an answer. The Master of Whisperers is an observer. A pair of ordinary eyes can see many things... What I see is that power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall. And a very small man can cast a very large shadow."