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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 625/751
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"
The
khal
needs
no
help
from
women
who
lie
with
sheep
,
"
barked
Qotho
.
"
Aggo
,
cut
out
her
tongue
.
"
Aggo
grabbed
her
hair
and
pressed
a
knife
to
her
throat
.
Dany
lifted
a
hand
.
"
No
.
She
is
mine
.
Let
her
speak
.
"
Aggo
looked
from
her
to
Qotho
.
He
lowered
his
knife
.
"
I
meant
no
wrong
,
fierce
riders
.
"
The
woman
spoke
Dothraki
well
.
The
robes
she
wore
had
once
been
the
lightest
and
finest
of
woolens
,
rich
with
embroidery
,
but
now
they
were
mud-caked
and
bloody
and
ripped
.
She
clutched
the
torn
cloth
of
her
bodice
to
her
heavy
breasts
.
"
I
have
some
small
skill
in
the
healing
arts
.
"
"
Who
are
you
?
"
Dany
asked
her
.
"
I
am
named
Mirri
Maz
Duur
.
I
am
godswife
of
this
temple
.
"
"
Maegi
,
"
grunted
Haggo
,
fingering
his
arakh
.
His
look
was
dark
.
Dany
remembered
the
word
from
a
terrifying
story
that
Jhiqui
had
told
her
one
night
by
the
cookfire
.
A
maegi
was
a
woman
who
lay
with
demons
and
practiced
the
blackest
of
sorceries
,
a
vile
thing
,
evil
and
soulless
,
who
came
to
men
in
the
dark
of
night
and
sucked
life
and
strength
from
their
bodies
.
"
I
am
a
healer
,
"
Mirri
Maz
Duur
said
.
