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- Джордж Мартин
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Brother
to
the
queen
.
Do
you
remember
the
battle
?
Sometimes
with
head
wounds
—
"
"
Your
name
.
"
His
throat
was
raw
,
and
his
tongue
had
forgotten
how
to
shape
the
words
.
"
I
am
Maester
Ballabar
.
"
"
Ballabar
,
"
Tyrion
repeated
.
"
Bring
me
.
Looking
glass
.
"
"
My
lord
,
"
the
maester
said
,
"
I
would
not
counsel
.
.
.
that
might
be
,
ah
,
unwise
,
as
it
were
.
.
.
your
wound
.
.
.
"
"
Bring
it
,
"
he
had
to
say
.
His
mouth
was
stiff
and
sore
,
as
if
a
punch
had
split
his
lip
.
"
And
drink
.
Wine
.
No
poppy
.
"
The
maester
rose
flush
-
faced
and
hurried
off
.
He
came
back
with
a
flagon
of
pale
amber
wine
and
a
small
silvered
looking
glass
in
an
ornate
golden
frame
.
Sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
,
he
poured
half
a
cup
of
wine
and
held
it
to
Tyrion
’
s
swollen
lips
.
The
trickle
went
down
cool
,
though
he
could
hardly
taste
it
.
"
More
,
"
he
said
when
the
cup
was
empty
.
Maester
Ballabar
poured
again
.
By
the
end
of
the
second
cup
,
Tyrion
Lannister
felt
strong
enough
to
face
his
face
.
He
turned
over
the
glass
,
and
did
not
know
whether
he
ought
to
laugh
or
cry
.
The
gash
was
long
and
crooked
,
starting
a
hair
under
his
left
eye
and
ending
on
the
right
side
of
his
jaw
.
Three
-
quarters
of
his
nose
was
gone
,
and
a
chunk
of
his
lip
.
Someone
had
sewn
the
torn
flesh
together
with
catgut
,
and
their
clumsy
stitches
were
still
in
place
across
the
seam
of
raw
,
red
,
half
-
healed
flesh
.
"
Pretty
,
"
he
croaked
,
flinging
the
glass
aside
.
He
remembered
now
.
The
bridge
of
boats
,
Ser
Mandon
Moore
,
a
hand
,
a
sword
coming
at
his
face
.
If
I
had
not
pulled
back
,
that
cut
would
have
taken
off
the
top
of
my
head
.
Jaime
had
always
said
that
Ser
Mandon
was
the
most
dangerous
of
the
Kingsguard
,
because
his
dead
empty
eyes
gave
no
hint
to
his
intentions
.
I
should
never
have
trusted
any
of
them
.
He
’
d
known
that
Ser
Meryn
and
Ser
Boros
were
his
sister
’
s
,
and
Ser
Osmund
later
,
but
he
had
let
himself
believe
that
the
others
were
not
wholly
lost
to
honor
.
Cersei
must
have
paid
him
to
see
that
I
never
came
back
from
the
battle
.
Why
else
?
I
never
did
Ser
Mandon
any
harm
that
I
know
of
.
Tyrion
touched
his
face
,
plucking
at
the
proud
flesh
with
blunt
thick
fingers
.
Another
gift
from
my
sweet
sister
.
The
maester
stood
beside
the
bed
like
a
goose
about
to
take
flight
.
"
My
lord
,
there
,
there
will
most
like
be
a
scar
.
.
.
"
