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- Джордж Мартин
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"
A
lady
might
be
afraid
,
"
said
Shae
,
"
but
I
’
m
not
.
"
"
You
should
be
,
"
Tyrion
told
her
.
"
With
Storm
’
s
End
fallen
,
Stannis
will
soon
turn
his
attention
toward
King
’
s
Landing
.
"
He
regretted
flinging
away
that
wine
now
.
"
Lord
Varys
,
give
us
a
moment
,
and
I
’
ll
ride
back
to
the
castle
with
you
.
"
"
I
shall
wait
in
the
stables
.
"
He
bowed
and
stomped
off
.
Tyrion
drew
Shae
down
beside
him
.
"
You
are
not
safe
here
.
"
"
I
have
my
walls
,
and
the
guards
you
gave
me
.
"
"
Sellswords
,
"
Tyrion
said
.
"
They
like
my
gold
well
enough
,
but
will
they
die
for
it
?
As
for
these
walls
,
a
man
could
stand
on
another
’
s
shoulders
and
be
over
in
a
heartbeat
.
A
manse
much
like
this
one
was
burned
during
the
riots
.
They
killed
the
goldsmith
who
owned
it
for
the
crime
of
having
a
full
larder
,
just
as
they
tore
the
High
Septon
to
pieces
,
raped
Lollys
half
a
hundred
times
,
and
smashed
Ser
Aron
’
s
skull
in
.
What
do
you
think
they
would
do
if
they
got
their
hands
on
the
Hand
’
s
lady
?
"
"
The
Hand
’
s
whore
,
you
mean
?
"
She
looked
at
him
with
those
big
bold
eyes
of
hers
.
"
Though
I
would
be
your
lady
,
m
’
lord
.
I
’
d
dress
in
all
the
beautiful
things
you
gave
me
,
in
satin
and
samite
and
cloth
-
of
-
gold
,
and
I
’
d
wear
your
jewels
and
hold
your
hand
and
sit
by
you
at
feasts
.
I
could
give
you
sons
,
I
know
I
could
.
.
.
and
I
vow
I
’
d
never
shame
you
.
"
My
love
for
you
shames
me
enough
.
"
A
sweet
dream
,
Shae
.
Now
put
it
aside
,
I
beg
you
.
It
can
never
be
.
"
"
Because
of
the
queen
?
I
’
m
not
afraid
of
her
either
.
"
