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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 535/853
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Tyrion
was
unutterably
weary
,
but
there
was
no
time
for
despair
.
"
Bronn
,
take
as
many
men
as
you
need
and
see
that
the
water
wagons
are
not
molested
,
"
Gods
be
good
,
the
wildfire
,
if
any
blaze
should
reach
that
.
.
.
"
We
can
lose
all
of
Flea
Bottom
if
we
must
,
but
on
no
account
must
the
fire
reach
the
Guildhall
of
the
Alchemists
,
is
that
understood
?
Clegane
,
you
’
ll
go
with
him
.
"
For
half
a
heartbeat
,
Tyrion
thought
he
glimpsed
fear
in
the
Hound
’
s
dark
eyes
.
Fire
,
he
realized
.
The
Others
take
me
,
of
course
he
hates
fire
,
he
’
s
tasted
it
too
well
.
The
look
was
gone
in
an
instant
,
replaced
by
Clegane
’
s
familiar
scowl
.
"
I
’
ll
go
,
"
he
said
,
"
though
not
by
your
command
.
I
need
to
find
that
horse
.
"
Tyrion
turned
to
the
three
remaining
knights
of
the
Kingsguard
.
"
Each
of
you
will
ride
escort
to
a
herald
.
Command
the
people
to
return
to
their
homes
.
Any
man
found
on
the
streets
after
the
last
peal
of
the
evenfall
bell
will
be
killed
.
"
"
Our
place
is
beside
the
king
,
"
Ser
Meryn
said
,
complacent
.
Cersei
reared
up
like
a
viper
.
"
Your
place
is
where
my
brother
says
it
is
,
"
she
spit
.
"
The
Hand
speaks
with
the
king
’
s
own
voice
,
and
disobedience
is
treason
.
"
Boros
and
Meryn
exchanged
a
look
.
"
Should
we
wear
our
cloaks
,
Your
Grace
?
"
Ser
Boros
asked
.
"
Go
naked
for
all
I
care
.
It
might
remind
the
mob
that
you
’
re
men
.
They
’
re
like
to
have
forgotten
after
seeing
the
way
you
behaved
out
there
in
the
street
.
"
Tyrion
let
his
sister
rage
.
His
head
was
throbbing
.
He
thought
he
could
smell
smoke
,
though
perhaps
it
was
just
the
scent
of
his
nerves
fraying
.
Two
of
the
Stone
Crows
guarded
the
door
of
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
.
"
Find
me
Timett
son
of
Timett
.
"
