Free A Game of Thrones Enhanced Edition by George R. R. Martin

“Clearly there was more to this than the seeming.”
    Under the heavy weight of her furs, Catelyn shivered. “A lens is an instrument to help us see.”
    “Indeed it is.” He fingered the collar of his order; a heavy chain worn tight around the neck beneath his robe, each link forged from a different metal.
    Catelyn could feel dread stirring inside her once again. “What is it that they would have us see more clearly?”
    “The very thing I asked myself.” Maester Luwin drew a tightly rolled paper out of his sleeve. “I found the true message concealed within a false bottom when I dismantled the box the lens had come in, but it is not for my eyes.”
    Ned held out his hand. “Let me have it, then.”
    Luwin did not stir. “Pardons, my lord. The message is not for you either. It is marked for the eyes of the Lady Catelyn , and her alone. May I approach?”
    Catelyn nodded, not trusting to speak. The maester placed the paper on the table beside the bed. It was sealed with a small blob of blue wax. Luwin bowed and began to retreat.
    “Stay,” Ned commanded him. His voice was grave. He looked at Catelyn. “What is it? My lady, you’re shaking.”
    “I’m afraid,” she admitted. She reached out and took the letter in trembling hands. The furs dropped away fromher nakedness, forgotten. In the blue wax was the moon-and-falcon seal of House Arryn. “It’s from Lysa.” Catelyn looked at her husband. “It will not make us glad,” she told him. “There is grief in this message, Ned. I can feel it.”
    Ned frowned, his face darkening. “Open it.”
    Catelyn broke the seal.
    Her eyes moved over the words. At first they made no sense to her. Then she remembered. “Lysa took no chances. When we were girls together, we had a private language, she and I.”
    “Can you read it?”
    “Yes,” Catelyn admitted.
    “Then tell us.”
    “Perhaps I should withdraw,” Maester Luwin said.
    “No,” Catelyn said. “We will need your counsel.” She threw back the furs and climbed from the bed. The night air was as cold as the grave on her bare skin as she padded across the room.
    Maester Luwin averted his eyes. Even Ned looked shocked. “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “Lighting a fire,” Catelyn told him. She found a dressing gown and shrugged into it, then knelt over the cold hearth.
    “ Maester Luwin —” Ned began.
    “ Maester Luwin has delivered all my children,” Catelyn said. “This is no time for false modesty.” She slid the paper in among the kindling and placed the heavier logs on top of it.
    Ned crossed the room, took her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. He held her there, his face inches from her. “My lady, tell me! What was this message?”
    Catelyn stiffened in his grasp. “A warning,” she said softly. “If we have the wits to hear.”
    His eyes searched her face. “Go on.”
    “Lysa says Jon Arryn was murdered.”
    His fingers tightened on her arm. “By whom?”
    “The Lannisters,” she told him. “The queen.”
    Ned released his hold on her arm. There were deep red marks on her skin. “Gods,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse. “Your sister is sick with grief. She cannot know what she is saying.”
    “She knows,” Catelyn said. “Lysa is impulsive, yes,but this message was carefully planned, cleverly hidden. She knew it meant death if her letter fell into the wrong hands. To risk so much, she must have had more than mere suspicion.” Catelyn looked to her husband. “Now we truly have no choice. You must be Robert’s Hand. You must go south with him and learn the truth.”
    She saw at once that Ned had reached a very different conclusion. “The only truths I know are here. The south is a nest of adders I would do better to avoid.”
    Luwin plucked at his chain collar where it had chafed the soft skin of his throat. “The Hand of the King has great power, my lord. Power to find the truth of Lord Arryn’s death, to bring his killers to the king’s justice. Power