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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
had
hoped
that
was
you
.
"
Pycelle
smiled
wanly
.
"
It
is
good
to
see
you
in
such
a
fierce
humor
,
my
lord
.
"
He
leaned
close
and
lowered
his
voice
.
"
There
was
a
raven
this
morning
,
a
letter
for
the
queen
from
her
lord
father
.
I
thought
you
had
best
know
.
"
"
Dark
wings
,
dark
words
,
"
Ned
said
grimly
.
"
What
of
it
?
"
"
Lord
Tywin
is
greatly
wroth
about
the
men
you
sent
after
Ser
Gregor
Clegane
,
"
the
maester
confided
.
"
I
feared
he
would
be
.
You
will
recall
,
I
said
as
much
in
council
.
"
"
Let
him
be
wroth
,
"
Ned
said
.
Every
time
his
leg
throbbed
,
he
remembered
Jaime
Lannister
's
smile
,
and
Jory
dead
in
his
arms
.
"
Let
him
write
all
the
letters
to
the
queen
he
likes
.
Lord
Beric
rides
beneath
the
king
's
own
banner
.
If
Lord
Tywin
attempts
to
interfere
with
the
king
's
justice
,
he
will
have
Robert
to
answer
to
.
The
only
thing
His
Grace
enjoys
more
than
hunting
is
making
war
on
lords
who
defy
him
.
"
Pycelle
pulled
back
,
his
maester
's
chain
jangling
.
"
As
you
say
.
I
shall
visit
again
on
the
morrow
.
"
The
old
man
hurriedly
gathered
up
his
things
and
took
his
leave
.
Ned
had
little
doubt
that
he
was
bound
straight
for
the
royal
apartments
,
to
whisper
at
the
queen
.
I
thought
you
had
best
know
,
indeed
...
as
if
Cersei
had
not
instructed
him
to
pass
along
her
father
's
threats
.
He
hoped
his
response
rattled
those
perfect
teeth
of
hers
.
Ned
was
not
near
as
confident
of
Robert
as
he
pretended
,
but
there
was
no
reason
Cersei
need
know
that
.
When
Pycelle
was
gone
,
Ned
called
for
a
cup
of
honeyed
wine
.
That
clouded
the
mind
as
well
,
yet
not
as
badly
.
He
needed
to
be
able
to
think
.
A
thousand
times
,
he
asked
himself
what
Jon
Arryn
might
have
done
,
had
he
lived
long
enough
to
act
on
what
he
'd
learned
.
Or
perhaps
he
had
acted
,
and
died
for
it
.
It
was
queer
how
sometimes
a
child
's
innocent
eyes
can
see
things
that
grown
men
are
blind
to
.
Someday
,
when
Sansa
was
grown
,
he
would
have
to
tell
her
how
she
had
made
it
all
come
clear
for
him
.
He
's
not
the
least
bit
like
that
old
drunken
king
,
she
had
declared
,
angry
and
unknowing
,
and
the
simple
truth
of
it
had
twisted
inside
him
,
cold
as
death
.
This
was
the
sword
that
killed
Jon
Arryn
,
Ned
thought
then
,
and
it
will
kill
Robert
as
well
,
a
slower
death
but
full
as
certain
.
Shattered
legs
may
heal
in
time
,
but
some
betrayals
fester
and
poison
the
soul
.
Littlefinger
came
calling
an
hour
after
the
Grand
Maester
had
left
,
clad
in
a
plum-colored
doublet
with
a
mockingbird
embroidered
on
the
breast
in
black
thread
,
and
a
striped
cloak
of
black
and
white
.
"
I
can
not
visit
long
,
my
lord
,
"
he
announced
.
"
Lady
Tanda
expects
me
to
lunch
with
her
.
No
doubt
she
will
roast
me
a
fatted
calf
.
If
it
's
near
as
fatted
as
her
daughter
,
I
'm
like
to
rupture
and
die
.
