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- Джордж Мартин
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The
white
knight
did
not
respond
.
Tyrion
was
almost
at
the
point
of
trying
to
force
his
way
past
when
Ser
Mandon
abruptly
stood
aside
.
"
You
may
enter
.
They
may
not
.
"
A
small
victory
,
he
thought
,
but
sweet
.
He
had
passed
his
first
test
.
Tyrion
Lannister
shouldered
through
the
door
,
feeling
almost
tall
.
Five
members
of
the
king
’
s
small
council
broke
off
their
discussion
suddenly
.
"
You
,
"
his
sister
Cersei
said
in
a
tone
that
was
equal
parts
disbelief
and
distaste
.
"
I
can
see
where
Joffrey
learned
his
courtesies
.
"
Tyrion
paused
to
admire
the
pair
of
Valyrian
sphinxes
that
guarded
the
door
,
affecting
an
air
of
casual
confidence
.
Cersei
could
smell
weakness
the
way
a
dog
smells
fear
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
"
His
sister
’
s
lovely
green
eyes
studied
him
without
the
least
hint
of
affection
.
"
Delivering
a
letter
from
our
lord
father
.
"
He
sauntered
to
the
table
and
placed
the
tightly
rolled
parchment
between
them
.
The
eunuch
Varys
took
the
letter
and
turned
it
in
his
delicate
powdered
hands
.
"
How
kind
of
Lord
Tywin
.
And
his
sealing
wax
is
such
a
lovely
shade
of
gold
.
"
Varys
gave
the
seal
a
close
inspection
.
"
It
gives
every
appearance
of
being
genuine
.
"
"
Of
course
it
’
s
genuine
.
"
Cersei
snatched
it
out
of
his
hands
.
She
broke
the
wax
and
unrolled
the
parchment
.
Tyrion
watched
her
read
.
His
sister
had
taken
the
king
’
s
seat
for
herself
—
he
gathered
Joffrey
did
not
often
trouble
to
attend
council
meetings
,
no
more
than
Robert
had
—
so
Tyrion
climbed
up
into
the
Hand
’
s
chair
.
it
seemed
only
appropriate
.
"
This
is
absurd
,
"
the
queen
said
at
last
.
"
My
lord
father
has
sent
my
brother
to
sit
in
his
place
in
this
council
.
He
bids
us
accept
Tyrion
as
the
Hand
of
the
King
,
until
such
time
as
he
himself
can
join
us
.
"
