-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Битва королей
-
- Стр. 573/853
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
They
left
through
a
postern
gate
in
the
north
wall
.
Tyrion
put
his
heels
into
his
horse
and
clattered
down
Shadowblack
Lane
.
A
few
furtive
shapes
darted
into
alleys
at
the
sound
of
hoofbeats
on
the
cobbles
,
but
no
one
dared
accost
them
.
The
council
had
extended
his
curfew
;
it
was
death
to
be
taken
on
the
streets
after
the
evenfall
bells
had
sung
.
The
measure
had
restored
a
degree
of
peace
to
King
’
s
Landing
and
quartered
the
number
of
corpses
found
in
the
alleys
of
a
morning
,
yet
Varys
said
the
people
cursed
him
for
it
.
They
should
be
thankful
they
have
the
breath
to
curse
.
A
pair
of
gold
cloaks
confronted
them
as
they
were
making
their
way
along
Coppersmith
’
s
Wynd
,
but
when
they
realized
whom
they
’
d
challenged
they
begged
the
Hand
’
s
pardons
and
waved
them
on
.
Bronn
turned
south
for
the
Mud
Gate
and
they
parted
company
.
Tyrion
rode
on
toward
Chataya
’
s
,
but
suddenly
his
patience
deserted
him
.
He
twisted
in
the
saddle
,
scanning
the
street
behind
.
There
were
no
signs
of
followers
.
Every
window
was
dark
or
tightly
shuttered
.
He
heard
nothing
but
the
wind
swirling
down
the
alleys
.
If
Cersei
has
someone
stalking
me
tonight
,
he
must
be
disguised
as
a
rat
.
"
Bugger
it
all
,
"
he
muttered
.
He
was
sick
of
caution
.
Wheeling
his
horse
around
,
he
dug
in
his
spurs
.
If
anyone
’
s
after
me
,
we
’
ll
see
how
well
they
ride
.
He
flew
through
the
moonlight
streets
,
clattering
over
cobbles
,
darting
down
narrow
alleys
and
up
twisty
wynds
,
racing
to
his
love
.
As
he
hammered
on
the
gate
he
heard
music
wafting
faintly
over
the
spiked
stone
walls
.
One
of
the
Ibbenese
ushered
him
inside
.
Tyrion
gave
the
man
his
horse
and
said
,
"
Who
is
that
?
"
The
diamond
-
shaped
panes
of
the
longhall
windows
shone
with
yellow
light
,
and
he
could
hear
a
man
singing
.
The
Ibbenese
shrugged
.
"
Fatbelly
singer
.
"
The
sound
swelled
as
he
walked
from
the
stable
to
the
house
.
Tyrion
had
never
been
fond
of
singers
,
and
he
liked
this
one
even
less
than
the
run
of
the
breed
,
sight
unseen
.
When
he
pushed
open
the
door
,
the
man
broke
off
.
"
My
lord
Hand
.
"
He
knelt
,
balding
and
kettle
-
bellied
,
murmuring
,
"
An
honor
,
an
honor
.
"
"
M
’
lord
.
"
Shae
smiled
at
the
sight
of
him
.
He
liked
that
smile
,
the
quick
unthinking
way
it
came
to
her
pretty
face
.
The
girl
wore
her
purple
silk
,
belted
with
a
cloth
-
of
-
silver
sash
.
The
colors
favored
her
dark
hair
and
the
smooth
cream
of
her
skin
.
"
Sweetling
,
"
he
called
her
.
"
And
who
is
this
?
"
The
singer
raised
his
eyes
.
"
I
am
called
Symon
Silver
Tongue
,
my
lord
.
A
player
,
a
singer
,
a
taleteller
—
"
