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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Bless
my
steel
with
a
kiss
.
"
He
extended
the
blade
down
to
her
.
"
Go
on
,
kiss
it
.
"
He
had
never
sounded
more
like
a
stupid
little
boy
.
Sansa
touched
her
lips
to
the
metal
,
thinking
that
she
would
kiss
any
number
of
swords
sooner
than
Joffrey
.
The
gesture
seemed
to
please
him
,
though
.
He
sheathed
the
blade
with
a
flourish
.
"
You
’
ll
kiss
it
again
when
I
return
,
and
taste
my
uncle
’
s
blood
.
"
Only
if
one
of
your
Kingsguard
kills
him
for
you
.
Three
of
the
White
Swords
would
go
with
Joffrey
and
his
uncle
:
Ser
Meryn
,
Ser
Mandon
,
and
Ser
Osmund
Kettleblack
.
"
Will
you
lead
your
knights
into
battle
?
"
Sansa
asked
,
hoping
.
"
I
would
,
but
my
uncle
the
Imp
says
my
uncle
Stannis
will
never
cross
the
river
.
I
’
ll
command
the
Three
Whores
,
though
.
I
’
m
going
to
see
to
the
traitors
myself
.
"
The
prospect
made
Joff
smile
.
His
plump
pink
lips
always
made
him
look
pouty
.
Sansa
had
liked
that
once
,
but
now
it
made
her
sick
.
"
They
say
my
brother
Robb
always
goes
where
the
fighting
is
thickest
,
"
she
said
recklessly
.
"
Though
he
’
s
older
than
Your
Grace
,
to
be
sure
.
A
man
grown
.
"
That
made
him
frown
.
"
I
’
ll
deal
with
your
brother
after
I
’
m
done
with
my
traitor
uncle
.
I
’
ll
gut
him
with
Hearteater
,
you
’
ll
see
.
"
He
wheeled
his
horse
about
and
spurred
toward
the
gate
.
Ser
Meryn
and
Ser
Osmund
fell
in
to
his
right
and
left
,
the
gold
cloaks
following
four
abreast
.
The
Imp
and
Ser
Mandon
Moore
brought
up
the
rear
.
The
guards
saw
them
off
with
shouts
and
cheers
.
When
the
last
was
gone
,
a
sudden
stillness
settled
over
the
yard
,
like
the
hush
before
a
storm
.
Through
the
quiet
,
the
singing
pulled
at
her
.
Sansa
turned
toward
the
sept
.
Two
stableboys
followed
,
and
one
of
the
guards
whose
watch
was
ended
.
Others
fell
in
behind
them
.
Sansa
had
never
seen
the
sept
so
crowded
,
nor
so
brightly
lit
;
great
shafts
of
rainbow
-
colored
sunlight
slanted
down
through
the
crystals
in
the
high
windows
,
and
candles
burned
on
every
side
,
their
little
flames
twinkling
like
stars
.
The
Mother
’
s
altar
and
the
Warrior
’
s
swam
in
light
,
but
Smith
and
Crone
and
Maid
and
Father
had
their
worshipers
as
well
,
and
there
were
even
a
few
flames
dancing
below
the
Stranger
’
s
half
-
human
face
.
.
.
for
what
was
Stannis
Baratheon
,
if
not
the
Stranger
come
to
judge
them
?
Sansa
visited
each
of
the
Seven
in
turn
,
lighting
a
candle
at
each
altar
,
and
then
found
herself
a
place
on
the
benches
between
a
wizened
old
washer
woman
and
a
boy
no
older
than
Rickon
,
dressed
in
the
fine
linen
tunic
of
a
knight
’
s
son
.
The
old
woman
’
s
hand
was
bony
and
hard
with
callus
,
the
boy
’
s
small
and
soft
,
but
it
was
good
to
have
someone
to
hold
on
to
.
The
air
was
hot
and
heavy
,
smelling
of
incense
and
sweat
,
crystal
-
kissed
and
candle
-
bright
;
it
made
her
dizzy
to
breathe
it
.
