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- Джордж Мартин
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Kurleket
let
go
of
Tyrion
's
hair
,
reluctantly
.
Tyrion
took
a
deep
breath
.
"
How
did
Littlefinger
tell
you
I
came
by
this
dagger
of
his
?
Answer
me
that
.
"
"
You
won
it
from
him
in
a
wager
,
during
the
tourney
on
Prince
Joffrey
's
name
day
.
"
"
When
my
brother
Jaime
was
unhorsed
by
the
Knight
of
Flowers
,
that
was
his
story
,
no
?
"
"
It
was
,
"
she
admitted
.
A
line
creased
her
brow
.
"
Riders
!
"
The
shriek
came
from
the
wind-carved
ridge
above
them
.
Ser
Rodrik
had
sent
Lharys
scrambling
up
the
rock
face
to
watch
the
road
while
they
took
their
rest
.
For
a
long
second
,
no
one
moved
.
Catelyn
Stark
was
the
first
to
react
.
"
Ser
Rodrik
,
Ser
Willis
,
to
horse
,
"
she
shouted
.
"
Get
the
other
mounts
behind
us
.
Mohor
,
guard
the
prisoners
--
"
"
Arm
us
!
"
Tyrion
sprang
to
his
feet
and
seized
her
by
the
arm
.
"
You
will
need
every
sword
.
"
She
knew
he
was
right
,
Tyrion
could
see
it
.
The
mountain
clans
cared
nothing
for
the
enmities
of
the
great
houses
;
they
would
slaughter
Stark
and
Lannister
with
equal
fervor
,
as
they
slaughtered
each
other
.
They
might
spare
Catelyn
herself
;
she
was
still
young
enough
to
bear
sons
.
Still
,
she
hesitated
.
