Arya screwed up her face. "I don't understand."
Syrio clicked his teeth together. "The cat was an ordinary cat, no more. The others expected a fabulous beast, so that is what they saw. How large it was, they said. It was no larger than any other cat, only fat from indolence, for the Sealord fed it from his own table. What curious small ears, they said. Its ears had been chewed away in kitten fights. And it was plainly a tomcat, yet the Sealord said ‘her,' and that is what the others saw. Are you hearing?"
Arya thought about it. "You saw what was there."
Just so. Opening your eyes is all that is needed. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.
Just so, said Arya, grinning.
Syrio Forel allowed himself a smile. "I am thinking that when we are reaching this Winterfell of yours, it will be time to put this needle in your hand."
Yes! Arya said eagerly. "Wait till I show Jon..."
Behind her the great wooden doors of the Small Hall flew open with a resounding crash. Arya whirled.