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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 307/751
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It
was
the
only
possible
course
.
Trying
to
cut
their
way
out
of
this
was
a
sure
invitation
to
an
early
grave
.
A
good
dozen
swords
had
responded
to
the
Stark
woman
's
plea
for
help
:
the
Harrenhal
man
,
the
three
Brackens
,
a
pair
of
unsavory
sellswords
who
looked
as
though
they
'd
kill
him
as
soon
as
spit
,
and
some
fool
field
hands
who
doubtless
had
no
idea
what
they
were
doing
.
Against
that
,
what
did
Tyrion
have
?
A
dagger
at
his
belt
,
and
two
men
.
Jyck
swung
a
fair
enough
sword
,
but
Morrec
scarcely
counted
;
he
was
part
groom
,
part
cook
,
part
body
servant
,
and
no
soldier
.
As
for
Yoren
,
whatever
his
feelings
might
have
been
,
the
black
brothers
were
sworn
to
take
no
part
in
the
quarrels
of
the
realm
.
Yoren
would
do
nothing
.
And
indeed
,
the
black
brother
stepped
aside
silently
when
the
old
knight
by
Catelyn
Stark
's
side
said
,
"
Take
their
weapons
,
"
and
the
sellsword
Bronn
stepped
forward
to
pull
the
sword
from
Jyck
's
fingers
and
relieve
them
all
of
their
daggers
.
"
Good
,
"
the
old
man
said
as
the
tension
in
the
common
room
ebbed
palpably
,
"
excellent
.
"
Tyrion
recognized
the
gruff
voice
;
Winterfell
's
master-at-arms
,
shorn
of
his
whiskers
.
Scarlet-tinged
spittle
flew
from
the
fat
innkeep
's
mouth
as
she
begged
of
Catelyn
Stark
,
"
Do
n't
kill
him
here
!
"
"
Do
n't
kill
him
anywhere
,
"
Tyrion
urged
.
"
Take
him
somewheres
else
,
no
blood
here
,
m
'
lady
,
I
wants
no
high
lordlin
's
quarrels
.
"
"
We
are
taking
him
back
to
Winterfell
,
"
she
said
,
and
Tyrion
thought
,
Well
,
perhaps
...
By
then
he
'd
had
a
moment
to
glance
over
the
room
and
get
a
better
idea
of
the
situation
.
He
was
not
altogether
displeased
by
what
he
saw
.
Oh
,
the
Stark
woman
had
been
clever
,
no
doubt
of
it
.
Force
them
to
make
a
public
affirmation
of
the
oaths
sworn
her
father
by
the
lords
they
served
,
and
then
call
on
them
for
succor
,
and
her
a
woman
,
yes
,
that
was
sweet
.
Yet
her
success
was
not
as
complete
as
she
might
have
liked
.
There
were
close
to
fifty
in
the
common
room
by
his
rough
count
.
Catelyn
Stark
's
plea
had
roused
a
bare
dozen
;
the
others
looked
confused
,
or
frightened
,
or
sullen
.
Only
two
of
the
Freys
had
stirred
,
Tyrion
noted
,
and
they
'd
sat
back
down
quick
enough
when
their
captain
failed
to
move
.
He
might
have
smiled
if
he
'd
dared
.
"
Winterfell
it
is
,
then
,
"
he
said
instead
.
That
was
a
long
ride
,
as
he
could
well
attest
,
having
just
ridden
it
the
other
way
.
So
many
things
could
happen
along
the
way
.
"
My
father
will
wonder
what
has
become
of
me
,
"
he
added
,
catching
the
eye
of
the
swordsman
who
'd
offered
to
yield
up
his
room
.
"
He
'll
pay
a
handsome
reward
to
any
man
who
brings
him
word
of
what
happened
here
today
.
"
Lord
Tywin
would
do
no
such
thing
,
of
course
,
but
Tyrion
would
make
up
for
it
if
he
won
free
.
Ser
Rodrik
glanced
at
his
lady
,
his
look
worried
,
as
well
it
might
be
.
"
His
men
come
with
him
,
"
the
old
knight
announced
.
"
And
we
'll
thank
the
rest
of
you
to
stay
quiet
about
what
you
've
seen
here
.
"
It
was
all
Tyrion
could
do
not
to
laugh
.
Quiet
?
The
old
fool
.
Unless
he
took
the
whole
inn
,
the
word
would
begin
to
spread
the
instant
they
were
gone
.
The
freerider
with
the
gold
coin
in
his
pocket
would
fly
to
Casterly
Rock
like
an
arrow
.
