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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
need
you
here
,
"
said
Tyrion
.
And
I
don
’
t
trust
you
with
my
nephew
.
Should
any
ill
befall
Joffrey
,
the
Lannister
claim
to
the
Iron
Throne
would
rest
on
Tommen
’
s
young
shoulders
.
Ser
Jacelyn
’
s
gold
cloaks
would
defend
the
boy
;
Bronn
’
s
sellswords
were
more
apt
to
sell
him
to
his
enemies
.
"
What
should
the
new
lord
do
with
the
old
one
?
"
"
Whatever
he
pleases
,
so
long
as
he
remembers
to
feed
him
.
I
don
’
t
want
him
dying
.
"
Tyrion
pushed
away
from
the
table
.
"
My
sister
will
send
one
of
the
Kingsguard
with
the
prince
.
"
Bronn
was
not
concerned
.
"
The
Hound
is
Joffrey
’
s
dog
,
he
won
’
t
leave
him
.
Ironhand
’
s
gold
cloaks
should
be
able
to
handle
the
others
easy
enough
.
"
"
If
it
comes
to
killing
,
tell
Ser
Jacelyn
I
won
’
t
have
it
done
in
front
of
Tommen
.
"
Tyrion
donned
a
heavy
cloak
of
dark
brown
wool
.
"
My
nephew
is
tender
-
hearted
.
"
"
Are
you
certain
he
’
s
a
Lannister
?
"
"
I
’
m
certain
of
nothing
but
winter
and
battle
,
"
he
said
.
"
Come
.
I
’
m
riding
with
you
part
of
the
way
.
"
"
Chataya
’
s
?
"
"
You
know
me
too
well
.
"
