Some are given a chance to climb but they refuse: they cling to the Realm, or the Gods, or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.
t h e b e a r a n d t h e m a i d e n f a i r
Jaime’s head jerked round at the sound of a distant roar, faint but ferocious. It echoed off the walls of Harrenhal, and the laughter swelled up like the sea. All of a sudden, he knew what was happening. Have we come too late? His stomach did a lurch, and he slammed his spurs into his horse, galloping across the outer ward, beneath an arched stone bridge, around the Wailing Tower, and through the Flowstone Yard.
