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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
would
not
need
to
seek
sorcerous
help
if
my
friend
Xaro
Xhoan
Daxos
would
give
me
what
I
ask
.
"
"
I
have
given
you
my
home
and
heart
,
do
they
mean
nothing
to
you
?
I
have
given
you
perfume
and
pomegranates
,
tumbling
monkeys
and
spitting
snakes
,
scrolls
from
lost
Valyria
,
an
idol
’
s
head
and
a
serpent
’
s
foot
.
I
have
given
you
this
palanquin
of
ebony
and
gold
,
and
a
matched
set
of
bullocks
to
bear
it
,
one
white
as
ivory
and
one
black
as
jet
,
with
horns
inlaid
with
jewels
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
Dany
said
.
"
But
it
was
ships
and
soldiers
I
wanted
.
"
"
Did
I
not
give
you
an
army
,
sweetest
of
women
?
A
thousand
knights
,
each
in
shining
armor
.
"
The
armor
had
been
made
of
silver
and
gold
,
the
knights
of
jade
and
beryl
and
onyx
and
tourmaline
,
of
amber
and
opal
and
amethyst
,
each
as
tall
as
her
little
finger
.
"
A
thousand
lovely
knights
,
"
she
said
,
"
but
not
the
sort
my
enemies
need
fear
.
And
my
bullocks
cannot
carry
me
across
the
water
,
I
—
why
are
we
stopping
?
"
The
oxen
had
slowed
notably
.
"
Khaleesi
,
"
Aggo
called
through
the
drapes
as
the
palanquin
jerked
to
a
sudden
halt
.
Dany
rolled
onto
an
elbow
to
lean
out
.
They
were
on
the
fringes
of
the
bazaar
,
the
way
ahead
blocked
by
a
solid
wall
of
people
.
"
What
are
they
looking
at
?
"
Jhogo
rode
back
to
her
.
"
A
firemage
,
Khaleesi
.
"
"
I
want
to
see
.
"
"
Then
you
must
.
"
The
Dothraki
offered
a
hand
down
.
When
she
took
it
,
he
pulled
her
up
onto
his
horse
and
sat
her
in
front
of
him
,
where
she
could
see
over
the
heads
of
the
crowd
.
The
firemage
had
conjured
a
ladder
in
the
air
,
a
crackling
orange
ladder
of
swirling
flame
that
rose
unsupported
from
the
floor
of
the
bazaar
,
reaching
toward
the
high
latticed
roof
.
