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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 581/853
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Shae
’
s
eyes
had
grown
large
but
he
could
not
read
what
lay
behind
them
.
"
My
hands
won
’
t
be
soft
if
I
clean
ovens
and
scrape
plates
all
day
.
Will
you
still
want
them
touching
you
when
they
’
re
all
red
and
raw
and
cracked
from
hot
water
and
lye
soap
?
"
"
More
than
ever
,
"
he
said
.
"
When
I
look
at
them
,
they
’
ll
remind
me
how
brave
you
were
.
"
He
could
not
say
if
she
believed
him
.
She
lowered
her
eyes
.
"
I
am
yours
to
command
,
m
’
lord
.
"
It
was
as
much
acceptance
as
she
could
give
tonight
,
he
saw
that
plain
enough
.
He
kissed
her
cheek
where
he
’
d
struck
her
,
to
take
some
sting
from
the
blow
.
"
I
will
send
for
you
.
"
Varys
was
waiting
in
the
stables
,
as
promised
.
His
horse
looked
spavined
and
half
-
dead
.
Tyrion
mounted
up
;
one
of
the
sellswords
opened
the
gates
.
They
rode
out
in
silence
.
Why
did
I
tell
her
about
Tysha
,
gods
help
me
?
he
asked
himself
,
suddenly
afraid
.
There
were
some
secrets
that
should
never
be
spoken
,
some
shames
a
man
should
take
to
his
grave
.
What
did
he
want
from
her
,
forgiveness
?
The
way
she
had
looked
at
him
,
what
did
that
mean
?
Did
she
hate
the
thought
of
scouring
pots
that
much
,
or
was
it
his
confession
?
How
could
I
tell
her
that
and
still
think
she
would
love
me
?
part
of
him
said
,
and
another
part
mocked
,
saying
,
Fool
of
a
dwarf
,
it
is
only
the
gold
and
jewels
the
whore
loves
.
His
scarred
elbow
was
throbbing
,
jarred
every
time
the
horse
set
down
a
hoof
.
Sometimes
he
could
almost
fancy
he
heard
the
bones
grinding
together
inside
.
Perhaps
he
should
see
a
maester
,
get
some
potion
for
the
pain
.
.
.
but
since
Pycelle
had
revealed
himself
for
what
he
was
,
Tyrion
Lannister
mistrusted
the
maesters
.
The
gods
only
knew
who
they
were
conspiring
with
,
or
what
they
had
mixed
in
those
potions
they
gave
you
.
"
Varys
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
need
to
bring
Shae
into
the
castle
without
Cersei
becoming
aware
.
"
Briefly
,
he
sketched
out
his
kitchen
scheme
.
When
he
was
done
,
the
eunuch
made
a
little
clucking
sound
.
"
I
will
do
as
my
lord
commands
,
of
course
.
.
.
but
I
must
warn
you
,
the
kitchens
are
full
of
eyes
and
ears
.
Even
if
the
girl
falls
under
no
particular
suspicion
,
she
will
be
subject
to
a
thousand
questions
.
Where
was
she
born
?
Who
were
her
parents
?
How
did
she
come
to
King
’
s
Landing
?
The
truth
will
never
do
,
so
she
must
lie
.
.
.
and
lie
,
and
lie
.
"
He
glanced
down
at
Tyrion
.
"
And
such
a
pretty
young
kitchen
wench
will
incite
lust
as
well
as
curiosity
.
She
will
be
touched
,
pinched
,
patted
,
and
fondled
.
Pot
boys
will
crawl
under
her
blankets
of
a
night
.
Some
lonely
cook
may
seek
to
wed
her
.
Bakers
will
knead
her
breasts
with
floured
hands
.
"
"
I
’
d
sooner
have
her
fondled
than
stabbed
,
"
said
Tyrion
.
