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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 408/751
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Lysa
gave
an
impatient
shake
of
her
waist-long
auburn
hair
.
"
Lord
Robert
wants
to
see
him
fly
,
"
she
said
,
as
if
that
settled
the
matter
.
"
And
the
Imp
has
only
himself
to
blame
.
It
was
he
who
demanded
a
trial
by
combat
.
"
"
Lady
Lysa
had
no
honorable
way
to
deny
him
,
even
if
she
'd
wished
to
,
"
Lord
Hunter
intoned
ponderously
.
Ignoring
them
all
,
Catelyn
turned
all
her
force
on
her
sister
.
"
I
remind
you
,
Tyrion
Lannister
is
my
prisoner
.
"
"
And
I
remind
you
,
the
dwarf
murdered
my
lord
husband
!
"
Her
voice
rose
.
"
He
poisoned
the
Hand
of
the
King
and
left
my
sweet
baby
fatherless
,
and
now
I
mean
to
see
him
pay
!
"
Whirling
,
her
skirts
swinging
around
her
,
Lysa
stalked
across
the
terrace
.
Ser
Lyn
and
Ser
Morton
and
the
other
suitors
excused
themselves
with
cool
nods
and
trailed
after
her
.
"
Do
you
think
he
did
?
"
Ser
Rodrik
asked
her
quietly
when
they
were
alone
again
.
"
Murder
Lord
Jon
,
that
is
?
The
Imp
still
denies
it
,
and
most
fiercely
...
"
"
I
believe
the
Lannisters
murdered
Lord
Arryn
,
"
Catelyn
replied
,
"
but
whether
it
was
Tyrion
,
or
Ser
Jaime
,
or
the
queen
,
or
all
of
them
together
,
I
could
not
begin
to
say
.
"
Lysa
had
named
Cersei
in
the
letter
she
had
sent
to
Winterfell
,
but
now
she
seemed
certain
that
Tyrion
was
the
killer
...
perhaps
because
the
dwarf
was
here
,
while
the
queen
was
safe
behind
the
walls
of
the
Red
Keep
,
hundreds
of
leagues
to
the
south
.
Catelyn
almost
wished
she
had
burned
her
sister
's
letter
before
reading
it
.
Ser
Rodrik
tugged
at
his
whiskers
.
"
Poison
,
well
...
that
could
be
the
dwarf
's
work
,
true
enough
.
Or
Cersei
's
.
It
's
said
poison
is
a
woman
's
weapon
,
begging
your
pardons
,
my
lady
.
The
Kingslayer
,
now
...
I
have
no
great
liking
for
the
man
,
but
he
's
not
the
sort
.
Too
fond
of
the
sight
of
blood
on
that
golden
sword
of
his
.
Was
it
poison
,
my
lady
?
"
Catelyn
frowned
,
vaguely
uneasy
.
"
How
else
could
they
make
it
look
a
natural
death
?
"
Behind
her
,
Lord
Robert
shrieked
with
delight
as
one
of
the
puppet
knights
sliced
the
other
in
half
,
spilling
a
flood
of
red
sawdust
onto
the
terrace
.
She
glanced
at
her
nephew
and
sighed
.
"
The
boy
is
utterly
without
discipline
.
He
will
never
be
strong
enough
to
rule
unless
he
is
taken
away
from
his
mother
for
a
time
.
"
"
His
lord
father
agreed
with
you
,
"
said
a
voice
at
her
elbow
.
She
turned
to
behold
Maester
Colemon
,
a
cup
of
wine
in
his
hand
.
"
He
was
planning
to
send
the
boy
to
Dragonstone
for
fostering
,
you
know
...
oh
,
but
I
'm
speaking
out
of
turn
.
"
The
apple
of
his
throat
bobbed
anxiously
beneath
the
loose
maester
's
chain
.
"
I
fear
I
've
had
too
much
of
Lord
Hunter
's
excellent
wine
.
The
prospect
of
bloodshed
has
my
nerves
all
a-fray
...
"
