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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 364/853
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"
You
’
re
certain
that
they
are
dead
this
time
?
"
Tyrion
asked
mildly
.
When
Bronn
choked
on
a
snort
of
laughter
,
he
knew
how
he
must
proceed
.
"
Truly
truly
dead
?
"
"
They
were
dead
the
first
time
,
"
Ser
Alliser
snapped
.
"
Pale
and
cold
,
with
black
hands
and
feet
.
I
brought
Jared
’
s
hand
,
torn
from
his
corpse
by
the
bastard
’
s
wolf
.
"
Littlefinger
stirred
.
"
And
where
is
this
charming
token
?
"
Ser
Alliser
frowned
uncomfortably
.
"
It
.
.
.
rotted
to
pieces
while
I
waited
,
unheard
.
There
’
s
naught
left
to
show
but
bones
.
"
Titters
echoed
through
the
hall
.
"
Lord
Baelish
,
"
Tyrion
called
down
to
Littlefinger
,
"
buy
our
brave
Ser
Alliser
a
hundred
spades
to
take
back
to
the
Wall
with
him
.
"
"
Spades
?
"
Ser
Alliser
narrowed
his
eyes
suspiciously
.
"
If
you
bury
your
dead
,
they
won
’
t
come
walking
,
"
Tyrion
told
him
,
and
the
court
laughed
openly
.
"
Spades
will
end
your
troubles
,
with
some
strong
backs
to
wield
them
.
Ser
Jacelyn
,
see
that
the
good
brother
has
his
pick
of
the
city
dungeons
.
"
Ser
Jacelyn
Bywater
said
,
"
As
you
will
,
my
lord
,
but
the
cells
are
near
empty
.
Yoren
took
all
the
likely
men
.
"
"
Arrest
some
more
,
then
,
"
Tyrion
told
him
.
"
Or
spread
the
word
that
there
’
s
bread
and
turnips
on
the
Wall
,
and
they
’
ll
go
of
their
own
accord
.
"
The
city
had
too
many
mouths
to
feed
,
and
the
Night
’
s
Watch
a
perpetual
need
of
men
.
At
Tyrion
’
s
signal
,
the
herald
cried
an
end
,
and
the
hall
began
to
empty
.
