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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 550/751
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The
man
bounded
to
his
feet
.
"
That
?
Dornish
swill
.
It
is
not
worthy
of
a
princess
.
I
have
a
dry
red
from
the
Arbor
,
crisp
and
delectable
.
Please
,
let
me
give
you
a
cask
.
"
Khal
Drogo
's
visits
to
the
Free
Cities
had
given
him
a
taste
for
good
wine
,
and
Dany
knew
that
such
a
noble
vintage
would
please
him
.
"
You
honor
me
,
ser
,
"
she
murmured
sweetly
.
"
The
honor
is
mine
.
"
The
merchant
rummaged
about
in
the
back
of
his
stall
and
produced
a
small
oaken
cask
.
Burned
into
the
wood
was
a
cluster
of
grapes
.
"
The
Redwyne
sigil
,
"
he
said
,
pointing
,
"
for
the
Arbor
.
There
is
no
finer
drink
.
"
"
Khal
Drogo
and
I
will
share
it
together
.
Aggo
,
take
this
back
to
my
litter
,
if
you
'd
be
so
kind
.
"
The
wineseller
beamed
as
the
Dothraki
hefted
the
cask
.
She
did
not
realize
that
Ser
Jorah
had
returned
until
she
heard
the
knight
say
,
"
No
.
"
His
voice
was
strange
,
brusque
.
"
Aggo
,
put
down
that
cask
.
"
Aggo
looked
at
Dany
.
She
gave
a
hesitant
nod
.
"
Ser
Jorah
,
is
something
wrong
?
"
"
I
have
a
thirst
.
Open
it
,
wineseller
.
"
The
merchant
frowned
.
"
The
wine
is
for
the
khaleesi
,
not
for
the
likes
of
you
,
ser
.
"
Ser
Jorah
moved
closer
to
the
stall
.
"
If
you
do
n't
open
it
,
I
'll
crack
it
open
with
your
head
.
"
He
carried
no
weapons
here
in
the
sacred
city
,
save
his
hands
--
yet
his
hands
were
enough
,
big
,
hard
,
dangerous
,
his
knuckles
covered
with
coarse
dark
hairs
.
The
wineseller
hesitated
a
moment
,
then
took
up
his
hammer
and
knocked
the
plug
from
the
cask
.
