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- Джордж Мартин
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"
What
do
I
need
with
dull
brass
when
Xaro
Xhoan
Daxos
feeds
me
off
plates
of
gold
?
"
As
she
turned
to
walk
off
,
Dany
let
her
glance
sweep
over
the
strangers
.
The
brown
man
was
near
as
wide
as
he
’
d
looked
in
the
platter
,
with
a
gleaming
bald
head
and
the
smooth
cheeks
of
a
eunuch
.
A
long
curving
arakh
was
thrust
through
the
sweat
-
stained
yellow
silk
of
his
bellyband
.
Above
the
silk
,
he
was
naked
but
for
an
absurdly
tiny
iron
-
studded
vest
.
Old
scars
crisscrossed
his
tree
-
trunk
arms
,
huge
chest
,
and
massive
belly
,
pale
against
his
nut
-
brown
skin
.
The
other
man
wore
a
traveler
’
s
cloak
of
undyed
wool
,
the
hood
thrown
back
.
Long
white
hair
fell
to
his
shoulders
,
and
a
silky
white
beard
covered
the
lower
half
of
his
face
.
He
leaned
his
weight
on
a
hardwood
staff
as
tall
as
he
was
.
Only
fools
would
stare
so
openly
if
they
meant
me
harm
.
All
the
same
,
it
might
be
prudent
to
head
back
toward
Jhogo
and
Aggo
.
"
The
old
man
does
not
wear
a
sword
,
"
she
said
to
Jorah
in
the
Common
Tongue
as
she
drew
him
away
.
The
brass
merchant
came
hopping
after
them
.
"
Five
honors
,
for
five
it
is
yours
,
it
was
meant
for
you
.
"
Ser
Jorah
said
,
"
A
hardwood
staff
can
crack
a
skull
as
well
as
any
mace
.
"
"
Four
!
I
know
you
want
it
!
"
He
danced
in
front
of
them
,
scampering
backward
as
he
thrust
the
platter
at
their
faces
.
"
Do
they
follow
?
"
"
Lift
that
up
a
little
higher
,
"
the
knight
told
the
merchant
.
"
Yes
.
The
old
man
pretends
to
linger
at
a
potter
’
s
stall
,
but
the
brown
one
has
eyes
only
for
you
.
"
"
Two
honors
!
Two
!
Two
!
"
The
merchant
was
panting
heavily
from
the
effort
of
running
backward
.
"
Pay
him
before
he
kills
himself
,
"
Dany
told
Ser
Jorah
,
wondering
what
she
was
going
to
do
with
a
huge
brass
platter
.
She
turned
back
as
he
reached
for
his
coins
,
intending
to
put
an
end
to
this
mummer
’
s
farce
.
The
blood
of
the
dragon
would
not
be
herded
through
the
bazaar
by
an
old
man
and
a
fat
eunuch
.
A
Qartheen
stepped
into
her
path
.
