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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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"
Help
him
,
"
Dany
pleaded
.
"
For
the
love
you
say
you
bear
me
,
help
him
now
.
"
The
knight
knelt
beside
her
.
He
looked
at
Drogo
long
and
hard
,
and
then
at
Dany
.
"
Send
your
maids
away
.
"
Wordlessly
,
her
throat
tight
with
fear
,
Dany
made
a
gesture
.
Irri
herded
the
other
girls
from
the
tent
.
When
they
were
alone
,
Ser
Jorah
drew
his
dagger
.
Deftly
,
with
a
delicacy
surprising
in
such
a
big
man
,
he
began
to
scrape
away
the
black
leaves
and
dried
blue
mud
from
Drogo
's
chest
.
The
plaster
had
caked
hard
as
the
mud
walls
of
the
Lamb
Men
,
and
like
those
walls
it
cracked
easily
.
Ser
Jorah
broke
the
dry
mud
with
his
knife
,
pried
the
chunks
from
the
flesh
,
peeled
off
the
leaves
one
by
one
.
A
foul
,
sweet
smell
rose
from
the
wound
,
so
thick
it
almost
choked
her
.
The
leaves
were
crusted
with
blood
and
pus
,
Drogo
's
breast
black
and
glistening
with
corruption
.
"
No
,
"
Dany
whispered
as
tears
ran
down
her
cheeks
.
"
No
,
please
,
gods
hear
me
,
no
.
"
Khal
Drogo
thrashed
,
fighting
some
unseen
enemy
.
Black
blood
ran
slow
and
thick
from
his
open
wound
.
"
Your
khal
is
good
as
dead
,
Princess
.
"
"
No
,
he
ca
n't
die
,
he
must
n't
,
it
was
only
a
cut
.
"
Dany
took
his
large
callused
hand
in
her
own
small
ones
,
and
held
it
tight
between
them
.
"
I
will
not
let
him
die
...
"
Ser
Jorah
gave
a
bitter
laugh
.
"
Khaleesi
or
queen
,
that
command
is
beyond
your
power
.
Save
your
tears
,
child
.
Weep
for
him
tomorrow
,
or
a
year
from
now
.
We
do
not
have
time
for
grief
.
We
must
go
,
and
quickly
,
before
he
dies
.
"
Dany
was
lost
.
"
Go
?
Where
should
we
go
?
"
