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- Джордж Мартин
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Some
serving
girls
took
charge
of
her
,
mouthing
meaningless
comforts
to
stop
her
shaking
.
One
stripped
off
the
ruins
of
her
gown
and
smallclothes
,
and
another
bathed
her
and
washed
the
sticky
juice
from
her
face
and
her
hair
.
As
they
scrubbed
her
down
with
soap
and
sluiced
warm
water
over
her
head
,
all
she
could
see
were
the
faces
from
the
bailey
.
Knights
are
sworn
to
defend
the
weak
,
protect
women
,
and
fight
for
the
right
,
but
none
of
them
did
a
thing
.
Only
Ser
Dontos
had
tried
to
help
,
and
he
was
no
longer
a
knight
,
no
more
than
the
Imp
was
,
nor
the
Hound
.
.
.
the
Hound
hated
knights
.
.
.
I
hate
them
too
,
Sansa
thought
.
They
are
no
true
knights
,
not
one
of
them
.
After
she
was
clean
,
plump
ginger
-
headed
Maester
Frenken
came
to
see
her
.
He
bid
her
lie
facedown
on
the
mattress
while
he
spread
a
salve
across
the
angry
red
welts
that
covered
the
backs
of
her
legs
.
Afterward
he
mixed
her
a
draught
of
dreamwine
,
with
some
honey
so
it
might
go
down
easier
.
"
Sleep
a
bit
,
child
.
When
you
wake
,
all
this
will
seem
a
bad
dream
.
"
No
it
won
’
t
,
you
stupid
man
,
Sansa
thought
,
but
she
drank
the
dreamwine
anyway
,
and
slept
.
It
was
dark
when
she
woke
again
,
not
quite
knowing
where
she
was
,
the
room
both
strange
and
strangely
familiar
.
As
she
rose
,
a
stab
of
pain
went
through
her
legs
and
brought
it
all
back
.
Tears
filled
her
eyes
.
Someone
had
laid
out
a
robe
for
her
beside
the
bed
.
Sansa
slipped
it
on
and
opened
the
door
.
Outside
stood
a
hard
-
faced
woman
with
leathery
brown
skin
,
three
necklaces
looped
about
her
scrawny
neck
.
One
was
gold
and
one
was
silver
and
one
was
made
of
human
ears
.
"
Where
does
she
think
she
’
s
going
?
"
the
woman
asked
,
leaning
on
a
tall
spear
.
"
The
godswood
.
"
She
had
to
find
Ser
Dontos
,
beg
him
to
take
her
home
now
before
it
was
too
late
.
"
The
halfman
said
you
’
re
not
to
leave
,
"
the
woman
said
.
"
Pray
here
,
the
gods
will
hear
.
"
Meekly
,
Sansa
dropped
her
eyes
and
retreated
back
inside
.
She
realized
suddenly
why
this
place
seemed
so
familiar
.
They
’
ve
put
me
in
Arya
’
s
old
bedchamber
,
from
when
Father
was
the
Hand
of
the
King
.
All
her
things
are
gone
and
the
furnishings
have
been
moved
around
,
but
it
’
s
the
same
.
.
.
A
short
time
later
,
a
serving
girl
brought
a
platter
of
cheese
and
bread
and
olives
,
with
a
flagon
of
cold
water
.
"
Take
it
away
,
"
Sansa
commanded
,
but
the
girl
left
the
food
on
a
table
.
She
was
thirsty
,
she
realized
.
Every
step
sent
knives
through
her
thighs
,
but
she
made
herself
cross
the
room
.
She
drank
two
cups
of
water
,
and
was
nibbling
on
an
olive
when
the
knock
came
.
Anxiously
,
she
turned
toward
the
door
,
smoothed
down
the
folds
of
her
robe
.
"
Yes
?
"