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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 309/751
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Tyrion
had
known
the
Lady
Lysa
slightly
during
her
years
at
King
's
Landing
,
and
did
not
look
forward
to
renewing
the
acquaintance
.
His
captors
were
clustered
around
a
stream
a
short
ways
down
the
high
road
.
The
horses
had
drunk
their
fill
of
the
icy
cold
water
,
and
were
grazing
on
clumps
of
brown
grass
that
grew
from
clefts
in
the
rock
.
Jyck
and
Morrec
huddled
close
,
sullen
and
miserable
.
Mohor
stood
over
them
,
leaning
on
his
spear
and
wearing
a
rounded
iron
cap
that
made
him
look
as
if
he
had
a
bowl
on
his
head
.
Nearby
,
Marillion
the
singer
sat
oiling
his
woodharp
,
complaining
of
what
the
damp
was
doing
to
his
strings
.
"
We
must
have
some
rest
,
my
lady
,
"
the
hedge
knight
Ser
Willis
Wode
was
saying
to
Catelyn
Stark
as
Tyrion
approached
.
He
was
Lady
Whent
's
man
,
stiff-necked
and
stolid
,
and
the
first
to
rise
to
aid
Catelyn
Stark
back
at
the
inn
.
"
Ser
Willis
speaks
truly
,
my
lady
,
"
Ser
Rodrik
said
.
"
This
is
the
third
horse
we
have
lost
--
"
"
We
will
lose
more
than
horses
if
we
're
overtaken
by
the
Lannisters
,
"
she
reminded
them
.
Her
face
was
windburnt
and
gaunt
,
but
it
had
lost
none
of
its
determination
.
"
Small
chance
of
that
here
,
"
Tyrion
put
in
.
"
The
lady
did
not
ask
your
views
,
dwarf
,
"
snapped
Kurleket
,
a
great
fat
oaf
with
short-cropped
hair
and
a
pig
's
face
.
He
was
one
of
the
Brackens
,
a
man-at-arms
in
the
service
of
Lord
Jonos
.
Tyrion
had
made
a
special
effort
to
learn
all
their
names
,
so
he
might
thank
them
later
for
their
tender
treatment
of
him
.
A
Lannister
always
paid
his
debts
.
Kurleket
would
learn
that
someday
,
as
would
his
friends
Lharys
and
Mohor
,
and
the
good
Ser
Willis
,
and
the
sellswords
Bronn
and
Chiggen
.
He
planned
an
especially
sharp
lesson
for
Marillion
,
him
of
the
woodharp
and
the
sweet
tenor
voice
,
who
was
struggling
so
manfully
to
rhyme
imp
with
gimp
and
limp
so
he
could
make
a
song
of
this
outrage
.
"
Let
him
speak
,
"
Lady
Stark
commanded
.
Tyrion
Lannister
seated
himself
on
a
rock
.
"
By
now
our
pursuit
is
likely
racing
across
the
Neck
,
chasing
your
lie
up
the
kingsroad
...
assuming
there
is
a
pursuit
,
which
is
by
no
means
certain
.
Oh
,
no
doubt
the
word
has
reached
my
father
...
but
my
father
does
not
love
me
overmuch
,
and
I
am
not
at
all
sure
that
he
will
bother
to
bestir
himself
.
"
It
was
only
half
a
lie
;
Lord
Tywin
Lannister
cared
not
a
fig
for
his
deformed
son
,
but
he
tolerated
no
slights
on
the
honor
of
his
House
.
"
This
is
a
cruel
land
,
Lady
Stark
.
You
'll
find
no
succor
until
you
reach
the
Vale
,
and
each
mount
you
lose
burdens
the
others
all
the
more
.
Worse
,
you
risk
losing
me
.
I
am
small
,
and
not
strong
,
and
if
I
die
,
then
what
's
the
point
?
"
That
was
no
lie
at
all
;
Tyrion
did
not
know
how
much
longer
he
could
endure
this
pace
.
