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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 709/751
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No
soft
blanket
of
grass
welcomed
them
here
,
only
the
hard
dusty
ground
,
bare
and
strewn
with
stones
.
No
trees
stirred
in
the
wind
,
and
there
was
no
stream
to
soothe
her
fears
with
the
gentle
music
of
water
.
Dany
told
herself
that
the
stars
would
be
enough
.
"
Remember
,
Drogo
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
Remember
our
first
ride
together
,
the
day
we
wed.
.
Remember
the
night
we
made
Rhaego
,
with
the
khalasar
all
around
us
and
your
eyes
on
my
face
.
Remember
how
cool
and
clean
the
water
was
in
the
Womb
of
the
World
.
Remember
,
my
sun-and-stars
.
Remember
,
and
come
back
to
me
.
"
The
birth
had
left
her
too
raw
and
torn
to
take
him
inside
of
her
,
as
she
would
have
wanted
,
but
Doreah
had
taught
her
other
ways
.
Dany
used
her
hands
,
her
mouth
,
her
breasts
.
She
raked
him
with
her
nails
and
covered
him
with
kisses
and
whispered
and
prayed
and
told
him
stories
,
and
by
the
end
she
had
bathed
him
with
her
tears
.
Yet
Drogo
did
not
feel
,
or
speak
,
or
rise
And
when
the
bleak
dawn
broke
over
an
empty
horizon
,
Dany
knew
that
he
was
truly
lost
to
her
.
"
When
the
sun
rises
in
the
west
and
sets
in
the
east
,
"
she
said
sadly
.
"
When
the
seas
go
dry
and
mountains
blow
in
the
wind
like
leaves
.
When
my
womb
quickens
again
,
and
I
bear
a
living
child
.
Then
you
will
return
,
my
sun-and-stars
,
and
not
before
.
"
Never
,
the
darkness
cried
,
never
never
never
.
Inside
the
tent
Dany
found
a
cushion
,
soft
silk
stuffed
with
feathers
.
She
clutched
it
to
her
breasts
as
she
walked
back
out
to
Drogo
,
to
her
sun-and-stars
.
If
I
look
back
I
am
lost
.
It
hurt
even
to
walk
,
and
she
wanted
to
sleep
,
to
sleep
and
not
to
dream
.
She
knelt
,
kissed
Drogo
on
the
lips
,
and
pressed
the
cushion
down
across
his
face
.
"
They
have
my
son
,
"
Tywin
Lannister
said
.
"
They
do
,
my
lord
.
"
The
messenger
's
voice
was
dulled
by
exhaustion
.
On
the
breast
of
his
torn
surcoat
,
the
brindled
boar
of
Crakehall
was
half-obscured
by
dried
blood
.
One
of
your
sons
,
Tyrion
thought
.
He
took
a
sip
of
wine
and
said
not
a
word
,
thinking
of
Jaime
.
When
he
lifted
his
arm
,
pain
shot
through
his
elbow
,
reminding
him
of
his
own
brief
taste
of
battle
.
He
loved
his
brother
,
but
he
would
not
have
wanted
to
be
with
him
in
the
Whispering
Wood
for
all
the
gold
in
Casterly
Rock
.
His
lord
father
's
assembled
captains
and
bannermen
had
fallen
very
quiet
as
the
courier
told
his
tale
.
The
only
sound
was
the
crackle
and
hiss
of
the
log
burning
in
the
hearth
at
the
end
of
the
long
,
drafty
common
room
.
