There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. The khalasar had two sorts: barren women and eunuch slaves. Give my wife your voice in all things great and small. In his stubborn ignorance, he had not even known he was being mocked; the carts were for eunuchs, cripples, women giving birth, the very young and the very old.
And you, Robb? He nodded his consent. Ned was quiet but firm. Your meat, he roared, is bloody tough. What if you'd only wounded him? What if you had made his hand jump, or hit Bran instead? For all you knew, the man might have been wearing a breastplate, all you could see was the back of his cloak.
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