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- Джордж Мартин
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Sansa
heard
someone
gasp
.
Ser
Boros
and
Ser
Meryn
moved
forward
to
confront
him
,
but
Ser
Barristan
froze
them
in
place
with
a
look
that
dripped
contempt
.
"
Have
no
fear
,
sers
,
your
king
is
safe
...
no
thanks
to
you
.
Even
now
,
I
could
cut
through
the
five
of
you
as
easy
as
a
dagger
cuts
cheese
.
If
you
would
serve
under
the
Kingslayer
,
not
a
one
of
you
is
fit
to
wear
the
white
.
"
He
flung
his
sword
at
the
foot
of
the
Iron
Throne
.
"
Here
,
boy
.
Melt
it
down
and
add
it
to
the
others
,
if
you
like
.
It
will
do
you
more
good
than
the
swords
in
the
hands
of
these
five
.
Perhaps
Lord
Stannis
will
chance
to
sit
on
it
when
he
takes
your
throne
.
"
He
took
the
long
way
out
,
his
steps
ringing
loud
against
the
floor
and
echoing
off
the
bare
stone
walls
.
Lords
and
ladies
parted
to
let
him
pass
.
Not
until
the
pages
had
closed
the
great
oak-and-bronze
doors
behind
him
did
Sansa
hear
sounds
again
:
soft
voices
,
uneasy
stirrings
,
the
shuffle
of
papers
from
the
council
table
.
"
He
called
me
boy
,
"
Joffrey
said
peevishly
,
sounding
younger
than
his
years
.
"
He
talked
about
my
uncle
Stannis
too
.
"
"
Idle
talk
,
"
said
Varys
the
eunuch
.
"
Without
meaning
...
"
"
He
could
be
making
plots
with
my
uncles
.
I
want
him
seized
and
questioned
.
"
No
one
moved
.
Joffrey
raised
his
voice
.
"
I
said
,
I
want
him
seized
!
"
Janos
Slynt
rose
from
the
council
table
.
"
My
gold
cloaks
will
see
to
it
,
Your
Grace
.
"
"
Good
,
"
said
King
Joffrey
.
Lord
Janos
strode
from
the
hall
,
his
ugly
sons
double-stepping
to
keep
up
as
they
lugged
the
great
metal
shield
with
the
arms
of
House
Slynt
.
"
Your
Grace
,
"
Littlefinger
reminded
the
king
.
"
If
we
might
resume
,
the
seven
are
now
six
.
We
find
ourselves
in
need
of
a
new
sword
for
your
Kingsguard
.
"
Joffrey
smiled
.
"
Tell
them
,
Mother
.
"
"
The
king
and
council
have
determined
that
no
man
in
the
Seven
Kingdoms
is
more
fit
to
guard
and
protect
His
Grace
than
his
sworn
shield
,
Sandor
Clegane
.
"
"
How
do
you
like
that
,
dog
?
"
King
Joffrey
asked
.
