"Rifters ... is that what you call all the strangers who come through the hole? Rather limiting, isn't it?" Tyrion answered dryly, before he nodded his head, "Are you going to lock me in a cell, ser? I only ask that I am in one with four walls and fewer rats. I did warn you about the dragon, after all."

A pause, then he chuckled dryly, "Everything hurts, ser. An ache in my hand matches the one on the top of my head where I believe I landed." Still, the pain in his hand was rather a sharp stabbing sort, so he let Raymond take a look at it. He looked curiously at the shard. "Is it meant to do something?"