At the command, the Moon Door—set between two slender marble pillars—was slowly opened. Carved from pale wood in the shape of a crescent, secured with a heavy bronze bar, it revealed the sheer drop beyond. Six hundred feet below lay the Stone Tower clinging to the mountainside.
Most executions at the Eyrie were carried out through that door.
Ser Rodrik Cassel rose to his feet, moving toward Tyrion Lannister with heavy strides like an old ox plowing a field.
The succubus backed away, extending his left fist to probe and distract.
Once, twice—they tested each other. Each time Tyrion Lannister stepped back, Rodrik raised his arms and advanced.
The old knight threw a punch, but Tyrion Lannister sprang backward, slipping out of range, the blow slicing through empty air.
He pivoted to the other side. Rodrik followed, arms still raised. The master-at-arms pressed forward step by careful step, placing his feet cautiously on the uneven ground.
A faint smile lingered at Tyrion Lannister's lips as he kept retreating, circling endlessly.
His leg is injured, Tyrion Lannister thought, watching the slight limp.
Rodrik continued his assault, but Tyrion Lannister moved faster, leaping lightly over a moss-covered stone. Then he veered left again, angling toward the injured leg.
Rodrik lunged to grab him but fell short. Tyrion Lannister darted away, forcing the old knight to turn once more.
"He's a coward," Lord Hunter said. "Fight him properly!" Others echoed the sentiment.
But the ladies voiced the opposite, praising Tyrion Lannister's agility.
The Blackfish had appeared behind his niece at some point. With a brief shake of his head, he said, "He's making Rodrik chase him. The man's old and wounded. Even the strongest tire quickly."
Catelyn Stark felt a pang of regret. She wished she had persuaded her sister to keep the succubus in the sky cells. Acting on impulse might cost them dearly.
Rodrik threw alternating punches, his attacks fierce and relentless.
Tyrion Lannister kept retreating, parrying each strike, feet dancing over steps and around pillars, never taking his eyes off his opponent.
Catelyn noticed how quick he was. Rodrik's fists never seemed to land, while Tyrion managed to strike the knight's head and shoulders several times.
Tyrion Lannister's speed and reach gave him the advantage, though his blows were light, lacking power.
"Mother, this is boring," Robert Arryn complained. "I want them to fight for real."
"Patience, sweetling," Lysa soothed. "He can't run forever."
Tyrion Lannister fixed his gaze on Rodrik, knowing the old man avoided meeting his mismatched green and violet eyes. He wiped sweat from his brow, letting it soak into the cloth wrapped around his hands.
He slipped behind a pillar, then burst out again, still circling left, feinting toward the knight's face.
Rodrik blocked the strike, but barely. He was breathing heavily now, sweat pouring down his back and into his eyes.
In the instant Rodrik blinked, Tyrion Lannister lashed out, kicking the injured leg. The old knight grunted and staggered back. Tyrion stepped forward and kicked the same leg again.
"Ser Rodrik is hurt," the Blackfish said gravely. "But don't worry. The succubus hits like a girl's hand—I'd let him strike my nose all day and never bleed."
No one needed telling. Everyone could see the gray-haired knight faltering while Tyrion Lannister closed the distance.
"My good master-at-arms," Tyrion Lannister chattered, feeling his fists grow heavier, the wraps stiffening, "if I spare you today, will you teach me swordplay?"
Rodrik ignored him, glancing briefly toward Lady Stark. Then he lunged, throwing his full weight forward to seize Tyrion Lannister.
Tyrion knew the man outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. If he was pinned to the ground, it would be over.
He tried to retreat, but Rodrik poured the last of his strength into the charge, catching one of Tyrion Lannister's arms and driving a fist into his stomach.
Had he eaten breakfast, Tyrion would have vomited.
The blow made him convulse, but his counterpunch followed instantly, slamming into Rodrik's jaw.
The plaster had hardened. Rodrik Cassel dropped like a man struck by a stone hammer, crashing flat onto his back.
The hall erupted. The men groaned, shouted, cursed. The ladies, however, seemed delighted.
Tyrion Lannister gagged once or twice, then walked over to Rodrik."Lucky man," he said. "Sound body—falls asleep instantly."
Then he turned to Catelyn Stark."My lady, shall we end this? Otherwise I might bloody his nose—and send him through the Moon Door."
"Fly! Let him fly!" Robert Arryn cried at once.
Catelyn shivered and nodded reluctantly."I yield. Sister, the gods have judged him innocent. We have no choice but to release him. This cunning devil—he inherits the madness of the Mad King…"
Lysa flushed and quickly pulled her sister back, preventing her from saying more.
"It seems the Starks still remember their honor," Tyrion Lannister said, unwrapping the cloth from his hands and tossing it through the Moon Door. "Honor as high as the Vale itself."
"My nickname is the Westerlands Battering Ram," he added with a wink. "Not just my fists."
"And you should be glad you didn't choose swords. Even my brother gives me a wide berth when we train."
"You promised he could fly!" young Lord Robert screamed at his mother, trembling.
"Not today," Lysa Arryn soothed.
"I suppose not," Tyrion Lannister agreed. "Though if you'd like to see the old man fly, perhaps you could arrange that."
The Blackfish had already moved forward to help Rodrik up. He could not understand how Tyrion's seemingly light blows had felled him.
"Enough, succubus," Brynden warned. "One more word and I'll see you don't leave the Bloody Gate."
Tyrion Lannister wisely fell silent. The Blackfish was one of the few truly clever men here.
Lysa Arryn raised her voice."Guards! Take the Lannister succubus away. Escort him to the Bloody Gate and set him free. Provide horses and provisions enough to reach the Trident, and return all his belongings and weapons. He'll need them on the mountain road."
"The mountain road?" Tyrion Lannister repeated.
A small, satisfied smile touched Lysa's lips. Catelyn suddenly understood—this was little different from another death sentence. Tyrion Lannister surely understood as well.
Yet he merely bowed politely.
"As you command, my lady," he said. "I remember the road."