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- Джордж Мартин
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The
door
opened
,
and
Tyrion
Lannister
stepped
inside
.
"
My
lady
.
I
trust
I
am
not
disturbing
you
?
"
"
Am
I
your
prisoner
?
"
"
My
guest
.
"
He
was
wearing
his
chain
of
office
,
a
necklace
of
linked
golden
hands
.
"
I
thought
we
might
talk
.
"
"
As
my
lord
commands
.
"
Sansa
found
it
hard
not
to
stare
;
his
face
was
so
ugly
it
held
a
queer
fascination
for
her
.
"
The
food
and
garments
are
to
your
satisfaction
?
"
he
asked
.
"
If
there
is
anything
else
you
need
,
you
have
only
to
ask
.
"
"
You
are
most
kind
.
And
this
morning
.
.
.
it
was
very
good
of
you
to
help
me
.
"
"
You
have
a
right
to
know
why
Joffrey
was
so
wroth
.
Six
nights
gone
,
your
brother
fell
upon
my
uncle
Stafford
,
encamped
with
his
host
at
a
village
called
Oxcross
not
three
days
’
ride
from
Casterly
Rock
.
Your
northerners
won
a
crushing
victory
.
We
received
word
only
this
morning
.
"
Robb
will
kill
you
all
,
she
thought
,
exulting
.
"
It
’
s
.
.
.
terrible
,
my
lord
.
My
brother
is
a
vile
traitor
.
"
The
dwarf
smiled
wanly
.
"
Well
,
he
’
s
no
fawn
,
he
’
s
made
that
clear
enough
.
"
