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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 704/853
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"
In
a
moment
.
"
Tyrion
threw
open
his
wardrobe
,
shoved
the
clothing
aside
,
and
pushed
against
the
rear
panel
.
What
worked
for
a
whorehouse
might
work
for
a
castle
as
well
.
.
.
but
no
,
the
wood
was
solid
,
unyielding
.
A
stone
beside
the
window
seat
drew
his
eye
,
but
all
his
tugging
and
prodding
went
for
naught
.
He
returned
to
the
bed
frustrated
and
annoyed
.
Shae
undid
his
laces
and
threw
her
arms
around
his
neck
.
"
Your
shoulders
feel
as
hard
as
rocks
,
"
she
murmured
.
"
Hurry
,
I
want
to
feel
you
inside
me
.
"
Yet
as
her
legs
locked
around
his
waist
,
his
manhood
left
him
.
When
she
felt
him
go
soft
,
Shae
slid
down
under
the
sheets
and
took
him
in
her
mouth
,
but
even
that
could
not
rouse
him
.
After
a
few
moments
he
stopped
her
.
"
What
’
s
wrong
?
"
she
asked
.
All
the
sweet
innocence
of
the
world
was
written
there
in
the
lines
of
her
young
face
.
Innocence
?
Fool
,
she
’
s
a
whore
,
Cersei
was
right
,
you
think
with
your
cock
,
fool
,
fool
.
"
Just
go
to
sleep
,
sweetling
,
"
he
urged
,
stroking
her
hair
Yet
long
after
Shae
had
taken
his
advice
,
Tyrion
himself
still
lay
awake
,
his
fingers
cupped
over
one
small
breast
as
he
listened
to
her
breathing
.
The
Great
Hall
of
Riverrun
was
a
lonely
place
for
two
to
sit
to
supper
.
Deep
shadows
draped
the
walls
.
One
of
the
torches
had
guttered
out
,
leaving
only
three
.
Catelyn
sat
staring
into
her
wine
goblet
.
The
vintage
tasted
thin
and
sour
on
her
tongue
.
Brienne
was
across
from
her
.
Between
them
,
her
father
’
s
high
seat
was
as
empty
as
the
rest
of
the
hall
.
Even
the
servants
were
gone
.
She
had
given
them
leave
to
join
the
celebration
.
The
walls
of
the
keep
were
thick
,
yet
even
so
,
they
could
hear
the
muffled
sounds
of
revelry
from
the
yard
outside
.
Ser
Desmond
had
brought
twenty
casks
up
from
the
cellars
,
and
the
smallfolk
were
celebrating
Edmure
’
s
imminent
return
and
Robb
’
s
conquest
of
the
Crag
by
hoisting
horns
of
nut
-
brown
ale
.
I
cannot
blame
them
,
Catelyn
thought
.
They
do
not
know
.
And
if
they
did
,
why
should
they
care
?
They
never
knew
my
sons
.
Never
watched
Bran
climb
with
their
hearts
in
their
throats
,
pride
and
terror
so
mingled
they
seemed
as
one
,
never
heard
him
laugh
,
never
smiled
to
see
Rickon
trying
so
fiercely
to
be
like
his
older
brothers
.
She
stared
at
the
supper
set
before
her
:
trout
wrapped
in
bacon
,
salad
of
turnip
greens
and
red
fennel
and
sweetgrass
,
pease
and
onions
and
hot
bread
.
Brienne
was
eating
methodically
,
as
if
supper
were
another
chore
to
be
accomplished
.
I
am
become
a
sour
woman
,
Catelyn
thought
.
I
take
no
joy
in
mead
nor
meat
,
and
song
and
laughter
have
become
suspicious
strangers
to
me
.
I
am
a
creature
of
grief
and
dust
and
bitter
longings
.
There
is
an
empty
place
within
me
where
my
heart
was
once
.
The
sound
of
the
other
woman
’
s
eating
had
become
intolerable
to
her
.
"
Brienne
,
I
am
no
fit
company
.
Go
join
the
revels
,
if
you
would
.
Drink
a
horn
of
ale
and
dance
to
Rymund
’
s
harping
.
"
