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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
have
a
message
.
"
Arya
eyed
the
serving
girl
uncertainly
.
When
she
did
not
seem
likely
to
go
away
,
she
leaned
in
until
her
mouth
was
almost
touching
his
ear
.
"
Weese
,
"
she
whispered
.
Jaqen
H
’
ghar
closed
his
eyes
again
,
floating
languid
,
half
-
asleep
.
"
Tell
his
lordship
a
man
shall
attend
him
at
his
leisure
.
"
His
hand
moved
suddenly
,
splashing
hot
water
at
her
,
and
Arya
had
to
leap
back
to
keep
from
getting
drenched
.
When
she
told
Tuffleberry
what
Weese
had
said
,
the
brewer
cursed
loudly
.
"
You
tell
Weese
my
lads
got
duties
to
attend
to
,
and
you
tell
him
he
’
s
a
pox
-
ridden
bastard
too
,
and
the
seven
hells
will
freeze
over
before
he
gets
another
horn
of
my
ale
.
I
’
ll
have
them
barrels
within
the
hour
or
Lord
Tywin
will
hear
of
it
,
see
if
he
don
’
t
.
"
Weese
cursed
too
when
Arya
brought
back
that
message
,
even
though
she
left
out
the
pox
-
ridden
bastard
part
.
He
fumed
and
threatened
,
but
in
the
end
he
rounded
up
six
men
and
sent
them
off
grumbling
to
fetch
the
barrels
down
to
the
brewhouse
.
Supper
that
evening
was
a
thin
stew
of
barley
,
onion
,
and
carrots
,
with
a
wedge
of
stale
brown
bread
.
One
of
the
women
had
taken
to
sleeping
in
Weese
’
s
bed
,
and
she
got
a
piece
of
ripe
blue
cheese
as
well
,
and
a
wing
off
the
capon
that
Weese
had
spoken
of
that
morning
.
He
ate
the
rest
himself
,
the
grease
running
down
in
a
shiny
line
through
the
boils
that
festered
at
the
corner
of
his
mouth
.
The
bird
was
almost
gone
when
he
glanced
up
from
his
trencher
and
saw
Arya
staring
.
"
Weasel
,
come
here
.
"
A
few
mouthfuls
of
dark
meat
still
clung
to
one
thigh
.
He
forgot
,
but
now
he
’
s
remembered
,
Arya
thought
.
It
made
her
feel
bad
for
telling
Jaqen
to
kill
him
.
She
got
off
the
bench
and
went
to
the
head
of
the
table
.
"
I
saw
you
looking
at
me
.
"
Weese
wiped
his
fingers
on
the
front
of
her
shift
.
Then
he
grabbed
her
throat
with
one
hand
and
slapped
her
with
the
other
.
"
What
did
I
tell
you
?
"
He
slapped
her
again
,
backhand
.
"
Keep
those
eyes
to
yourself
,
or
next
time
I
’
ll
spoon
one
out
and
feed
it
to
my
bitch
.
"
A
shove
sent
her
stumbling
to
the
floor
.
Her
hem
caught
on
a
loose
nail
in
the
splintered
wooden
bench
and
ripped
as
she
fell
.
"
You
’
ll
mend
that
before
you
sleep
,
"
Weese
announced
as
he
pulled
the
last
bit
of
meat
off
the
capon
.
When
he
was
finished
he
sucked
his
fingers
noisily
,
and
threw
the
bones
to
his
ugly
spotted
dog
.
"
Weese
,
"
Arya
whispered
that
night
as
she
bent
over
the
tear
in
her
shift
.
"
Dunsen
,
Polliver
,
Raff
the
Sweetling
,
"
she
said
,
calling
a
name
every
time
she
pushed
the
bone
needle
through
the
undyed
wool
.
"
The
Tickler
and
the
Hound
.
Ser
Gregor
,
Ser
Amory
,
Ser
Ilyn
,
Ser
Meryn
,
King
Joffrey
,
Queen
Cersei
.
"
She
wondered
how
much
longer
she
would
have
to
include
Weese
in
her
prayer
,
and
drifted
off
to
sleep
dreaming
that
on
the
morrow
,
when
she
woke
,
he
’
d
be
dead
.
But
it
was
the
sharp
toe
of
Weese
’
s
boot
that
woke
her
,
as
ever
.
The
main
strength
of
Lord
Tywin
’
s
host
would
ride
this
day
,
he
told
them
as
they
broke
their
fast
on
oatcakes
.
"
Don
’
t
none
of
you
be
thinking
how
easy
it
’
ll
be
here
once
m
’
lord
of
Lannister
is
gone
,
"
he
warned
.
