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- Джордж Мартин
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Pycelle
cleared
his
throat
.
"
These
words
often
appear
in
letters
and
documents
from
the
Free
Cities
.
They
mean
no
more
than
,
let
us
say
,
written
in
the
sight
of
god
.
The
god
of
the
red
priests
.
It
is
their
usage
,
I
do
believe
.
"
"
Varys
told
us
some
years
past
that
Lady
Selyse
had
taken
up
with
a
red
priest
,
"
Littlefinger
reminded
them
.
Tyrion
tapped
the
paper
.
"
And
now
it
would
seem
her
lord
husband
has
done
the
same
.
We
can
use
that
against
him
.
Urge
the
High
Septon
to
reveal
how
Stannis
has
turned
against
the
gods
as
well
as
his
rightful
king
.
.
.
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
the
queen
said
impatiently
,
"
but
first
we
must
stop
this
filth
from
spreading
further
.
The
council
must
issue
an
edict
.
Any
man
heard
speaking
of
incest
or
calling
Joff
a
bastard
should
lose
his
tongue
for
it
.
"
"
A
prudent
measure
,
"
said
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
,
his
chain
of
office
clinking
as
he
nodded
.
"
A
folly
,
"
sighed
Tyrion
.
"
When
you
tear
out
a
man
’
s
tongue
,
you
are
not
proving
him
a
liar
,
you
’
re
only
telling
the
world
that
you
fear
what
he
might
say
.
"
"
So
what
would
you
have
us
do
?
"
his
sister
demanded
.
"
Very
little
.
Let
them
whisper
,
they
’
ll
grow
bored
with
the
tale
soon
enough
.
Any
man
with
a
thimble
of
sense
will
see
it
for
a
clumsy
attempt
to
justify
usurping
the
crown
.
Does
Stannis
offer
proof
?
How
could
he
,
when
it
never
happened
?
"
Tyrion
gave
his
sister
his
sweetest
smile
.
"
That
’
s
so
,
"
she
had
to
say
.
"
Still
.
.
.
"
"
Your
Grace
,
your
brother
has
the
right
of
this
.
"
Petyr
Baelish
steepled
his
fingers
.
"
If
we
attempt
to
silence
this
talk
,
we
only
lend
it
credence
.
Better
to
treat
it
with
contempt
,
like
the
pathetic
lie
it
is
.
And
meantime
,
fight
fire
with
fire
.
"
