"Good, from now on, you're the spymaster of the North, but the position is not going to be...official. In public you will pose as the head scribe of Lord Manderly. Sit," he motioned with his hand and turned to Wyman's page. "Alyn, get us ale and wine, we're going to need it," the boy's eyes widened in surprise and then happily ran off. "Tell us, Lord Edwyle, do you have any news from the south?"