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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 653/751
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Robb
raised
his
head
and
pushed
his
hair
back
out
of
his
eyes
.
"
My
mother
is
right
.
We
still
have
Riverrun
.
"
The
flies
circled
Khal
Drogo
slowly
,
their
wings
buzzing
,
a
low
thrum
at
the
edge
of
hearing
that
filled
Dany
with
dread
.
The
sun
was
high
and
pitiless
.
Heat
shimmered
in
waves
off
the
stony
outcrops
of
low
hills
.
A
thin
finger
of
sweat
trickled
slowly
between
Dany
's
swollen
breasts
.
The
only
sounds
were
the
steady
clop
of
their
horses
'
hooves
,
the
rhythmic
tingle
of
the
bells
in
Drogo
's
hair
,
and
the
distant
voices
behind
them
.
Dany
watched
the
flies
.
They
were
as
large
as
bees
,
gross
,
purplish
,
glistening
.
The
Dothraki
called
them
bloodflies
.
They
lived
in
marshes
and
stagnant
pools
,
sucked
blood
from
man
and
horse
alike
,
and
laid
their
eggs
in
the
dead
and
dying
.
Drogo
hated
them
.
Whenever
one
came
near
him
,
his
hand
would
shoot
out
quick
as
a
striking
snake
to
close
around
it
.
She
had
never
seen
him
miss
.
He
would
hold
the
fly
inside
his
huge
fist
long
enough
to
hear
its
frantic
buzzing
.
Then
his
fingers
would
tighten
,
and
when
he
opened
his
hand
again
,
the
fly
would
be
only
a
red
smear
on
his
palm
.
Now
one
crept
across
the
rump
of
his
stallion
,
and
the
horse
gave
an
angry
flick
of
its
tail
to
brush
it
away
.
The
others
flitted
about
Drogo
,
closer
and
closer
.
The
khal
did
not
react
.
His
eyes
were
fixed
on
distant
brown
hills
,
the
reins
loose
in
his
hands
.
Beneath
his
painted
vest
,
a
plaster
of
fig
leaves
and
caked
blue
mud
covered
the
wound
on
his
breast
.
The
herbwomen
had
made
it
for
him
.
Mirri
Maz
Duur
's
poultice
had
itched
and
burned
,
and
he
had
torn
it
off
six
days
ago
,
cursing
her
for
a
maegi
.
The
mud
plaster
was
more
soothing
,
and
the
herbwomen
made
him
poppy
wine
as
well
.
He
'd
been
drinking
it
heavily
these
past
three
days
;
when
it
was
not
poppy
wine
,
it
was
fermented
mare
's
milk
or
pepper
beer
.
Yet
he
scarcely
touched
his
food
,
and
he
thrashed
and
groaned
in
the
night
.
Dany
could
see
how
drawn
his
face
had
become
.
Rhaego
was
restless
in
her
belly
,
kicking
like
a
stallion
,
yet
even
that
did
not
stir
Drogo
's
interest
as
it
had
.
Every
morning
her
eyes
found
fresh
lines
of
pain
on
his
face
when
he
woke
from
his
troubled
sleep
.
And
now
this
silence
.
It
was
making
her
afraid
.
Since
they
had
mounted
up
at
dawn
,
he
had
said
not
a
word
.
When
she
spoke
,
she
got
no
answer
but
a
grunt
,
and
not
even
that
much
since
midday
.
One
of
the
bloodflies
landed
on
the
bare
skin
of
the
khal
's
shoulder
.
Another
,
circling
,
touched
down
on
his
neck
and
crept
up
toward
his
mouth
.
Khal
Drogo
swayed
in
the
saddle
,
bells
ringing
,
as
his
stallion
kept
onward
at
a
steady
walking
pace
.
Dany
pressed
her
heels
into
her
silver
and
rode
closer
.
"
My
lord
,
"
she
said
softly
.
"
Drogo
.
My
sun-and-stars
.
"
