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- Джордж Мартин
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That
night
Sansa
dreamed
of
the
riot
again
.
The
mob
surged
around
her
,
shrieking
,
a
maddened
beast
with
a
thousand
faces
.
Everywhere
she
turned
she
saw
faces
twisted
into
monstrous
inhuman
masks
.
She
wept
and
told
them
she
had
never
done
them
hurt
,
yet
they
dragged
her
from
her
horse
all
the
same
.
"
No
,
"
she
cried
,
"
no
,
please
,
don
’
t
,
don
’
t
,
"
but
no
one
paid
her
any
heed
.
She
shouted
for
Ser
Dontos
,
for
her
brothers
,
for
her
dead
father
and
her
dead
wolf
,
for
gallant
Ser
Loras
who
had
given
her
a
red
rose
once
,
but
none
of
them
came
.
She
called
for
the
heroes
from
the
songs
,
for
Florian
and
Ser
Ryam
Redwyne
and
Prince
Aemon
the
Dragonknight
,
but
no
one
heard
.
Women
swarmed
over
her
like
weasels
,
pinching
her
legs
and
kicking
her
in
the
belly
,
and
someone
hit
her
in
the
face
and
she
felt
her
teeth
shatter
.
Then
she
saw
the
bright
glimmer
of
steel
.
The
knife
plunged
into
her
belly
and
tore
and
tore
and
tore
,
until
there
was
nothing
left
of
her
down
there
but
shiny
wet
ribbons
.
When
she
woke
,
the
pale
light
of
morning
was
slanting
through
her
window
,
yet
she
felt
as
sick
and
achy
as
if
she
had
not
slept
at
all
.
There
was
something
sticky
on
her
thighs
.
When
she
threw
back
the
blanket
and
saw
the
blood
,
all
she
could
think
was
that
her
dream
had
somehow
come
true
.
She
remembered
the
knives
inside
her
,
twisting
and
ripping
.
She
squirmed
away
in
horror
,
kicking
at
the
sheets
and
falling
to
the
floor
,
breathing
raggedly
,
naked
,
bloodied
,
and
afraid
.
But
as
she
crouched
there
,
on
her
hands
and
knees
,
understanding
came
.
"
No
,
please
,
"
Sansa
whimpered
,
"
please
,
no
.
"
She
didn
’
t
want
this
happening
to
her
,
not
now
,
not
here
,
not
now
,
not
now
,
not
now
,
not
now
.
Madness
took
hold
of
her
.
Pulling
herself
up
by
the
bedpost
,
she
went
to
the
basin
and
washed
between
her
legs
,
scrubbing
away
all
the
stickiness
.
By
the
time
she
was
done
,
the
water
was
pink
with
blood
.
When
her
maidservants
saw
it
they
would
know
.
Then
she
remembered
the
bedclothes
.
She
rushed
back
to
the
bed
and
stared
in
horror
at
the
dark
red
stain
and
the
tale
it
told
.
All
she
could
think
was
that
she
had
to
get
rid
of
it
,
or
else
they
’
d
see
.
She
couldn
’
t
let
them
see
,
or
they
’
d
marry
her
to
Joffrey
and
make
her
lay
with
him
.
Snatching
up
her
knife
,
Sansa
hacked
at
the
sheet
,
cutting
out
the
stain
.
If
they
ask
me
about
the
hole
,
what
will
I
say
?
Tears
ran
down
her
face
.
She
pulled
the
torn
sheet
from
the
bed
,
and
the
stained
blanket
as
well
.
I
’
ll
have
to
burn
them
.
She
balled
up
the
evidence
,
stuffed
it
in
the
fireplace
,
drenched
it
in
oil
from
her
bedside
lamp
,
and
lit
it
afire
.
Then
she
realized
that
the
blood
had
soaked
through
the
sheet
into
the
featherbed
,
so
she
bundled
that
up
as
well
,
but
it
was
big
and
cumbersome
,
hard
to
move
.
Sansa
could
get
only
half
of
it
into
the
fire
.
She
was
on
her
knees
,
struggling
to
shove
the
mattress
into
the
flames
as
thick
grey
smoke
eddied
around
her
and
filled
the
room
,
when
the
door
burst
open
and
she
heard
her
maid
gasp
.
In
the
end
it
took
three
of
them
to
pull
her
away
.
And
it
was
all
for
nothing
.
The
bedclothes
were
burnt
,
but
by
the
time
they
carried
her
off
her
thighs
were
bloody
again
.
It
was
as
if
her
own
body
had
betrayed
her
to
Joffrey
,
unfurling
a
banner
of
Lannister
crimson
for
all
the
world
to
see
.
When
the
fire
was
out
,
they
carried
off
the
singed
featherbed
,
fanned
away
the
worst
of
the
smoke
,
and
brought
up
a
tub
.
Women
came
and
went
,
muttering
and
looking
at
her
strangely
.
They
filled
the
tub
with
scalding
-
hot
water
,
bathed
her
and
washed
her
hair
and
gave
her
a
cloth
to
wear
between
her
legs
.
By
then
Sansa
was
calm
again
,
and
ashamed
for
her
folly
.
The
smoke
had
ruined
most
of
her
clothing
.
One
of
the
women
went
away
and
came
back
with
a
green
wool
shift
that
was
almost
her
size
.
"
It
’
s
not
as
pretty
as
your
own
things
,
but
it
will
serve
,
"
she
announced
when
she
’
d
pulled
it
down
over
Sansa
’
s
head
.
"
Your
shoes
weren
’
t
burned
,
so
at
least
you
won
’
t
need
to
go
barefoot
to
the
queen
.
"
