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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 629/751
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"
I
know
every
secret
of
the
bloody
bed
,
Silver
Lady
,
nor
have
I
ever
lost
a
babe
,
"
Mirri
Maz
Duur
replied
.
"
My
time
is
near
,
"
Dany
said
.
"
I
would
have
you
attend
me
when
he
comes
,
if
you
would
.
"
Khal
Drogo
laughed
.
"
Moon
of
my
life
,
you
do
not
ask
a
slave
,
you
tell
her
.
She
will
do
as
you
command
"
He
jumped
down
from
the
altar
.
"
Come
,
my
blood
.
The
stallions
call
,
this
place
is
ashes
.
It
is
time
to
ride
.
"
Haggo
followed
the
khal
from
the
temple
,
but
Qotho
lingered
long
enough
to
favor
Mirri
Maz
Duur
with
a
stare
.
"
Remember
,
maegi
,
as
the
khal
fares
,
so
shall
you
.
"
"
As
you
say
,
rider
,
"
the
woman
answered
him
,
gathering
up
her
jars
and
bottles
.
"
The
Great
Shepherd
guards
the
flock
.
"
On
a
hill
overlooking
the
kingsroad
,
a
long
trestle
table
of
rough-hewn
pine
had
been
erected
beneath
an
elm
tree
and
covered
with
a
golden
cloth
.
There
,
beside
his
pavilion
,
Lord
Tywin
took
his
evening
meal
with
his
chief
knights
and
lords
bannermen
,
his
great
crimson-and-gold
standard
waving
overhead
from
a
lofty
pike
.
Tyrion
arrived
late
,
saddlesore
,
and
sour
,
all
too
vividly
aware
of
how
amusing
he
must
look
as
he
waddled
up
the
slope
to
his
father
.
The
day
's
march
had
been
long
and
tiring
.
He
thought
he
might
get
quite
drunk
tonight
.
It
was
twilight
,
and
the
air
was
alive
with
drifting
fireflies
.
The
cooks
were
serving
the
meat
course
:
five
suckling
pigs
,
skin
seared
and
crackling
,
a
different
fruit
in
every
mouth
.
The
smell
made
his
mouth
water
.
"
My
pardons
,
"
he
began
,
taking
his
place
on
the
bench
beside
his
uncle
.
"
Perhaps
I
'd
best
charge
you
with
burying
our
dead
,
Tyrion
,
"
Lord
Tywin
said
.
"
If
you
are
as
late
to
battle
as
you
are
to
table
,
the
fighting
will
all
be
done
by
the
time
you
arrive
.
"
