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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 710/751
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After
the
hardships
of
the
long
relentless
drive
south
,
the
prospect
of
even
a
single
night
in
an
inn
had
cheered
Tyrion
mightily
...
though
he
rather
wished
it
had
not
been
this
inn
again
,
with
all
its
memories
.
His
father
had
set
a
grueling
pace
,
and
it
had
taken
its
toll
.
Men
wounded
in
the
battle
kept
up
as
best
they
could
or
were
abandoned
to
fend
for
themselves
.
Every
morning
they
left
a
few
more
by
the
roadside
,
men
who
went
to
sleep
never
to
wake
.
Every
afternoon
a
few
more
collapsed
along
the
way
.
And
every
evening
a
few
more
deserted
,
stealing
off
into
the
dusk
.
Tyrion
had
been
half-tempted
to
go
with
them
.
He
had
been
upstairs
,
enjoying
the
comfort
of
a
featherbed
and
the
warmth
of
Shae
's
body
beside
him
,
when
his
squire
had
woken
him
to
say
that
a
rider
had
arrived
with
dire
news
of
Riverrun
.
So
it
had
all
been
for
nothing
.
The
rush
south
,
the
endless
forced
marches
,
the
bodies
left
beside
the
road
...
all
for
naught
.
Robb
Stark
had
reached
Riverrun
days
and
days
ago
.
"
How
could
this
happen
?
"
Ser
Harys
Swyft
moaned
.
"
How
?
Even
after
the
Whispering
Wood
,
you
had
Riverrun
ringed
in
iron
,
surrounded
by
a
great
host
...
what
madness
made
Ser
Jaime
decide
to
split
his
men
into
three
separate
camps
?
Surely
he
knew
how
vulnerable
that
would
leave
them
?
"
Better
than
you
,
you
chinless
craven
,
Tyrion
thought
.
Jaime
might
have
lost
Riverrun
,
but
it
angered
him
to
hear
his
brother
slandered
by
the
likes
of
Swyft
,
a
shameless
lickspittle
whose
greatest
accomplishment
was
marrying
his
equally
chinless
daughter
to
Ser
Kevan
,
and
thereby
attaching
himself
to
the
Lannisters
.
"
I
would
have
done
the
same
,
"
his
uncle
responded
,
a
good
deal
more
calmly
than
Tyrion
might
have
.
"
You
have
never
seen
Riverrun
,
Ser
Harys
,
or
you
would
know
that
Jaime
had
little
choice
in
the
matter
.
The
castle
is
situated
at
the
end
of
the
point
of
land
where
the
Tumblestone
flows
into
the
Red
Fork
of
the
Trident
.
The
rivers
form
two
sides
of
a
triangle
,
and
when
danger
threatens
,
the
Tullys
open
their
sluice
gates
upstream
to
create
a
wide
moat
on
the
third
side
,
turning
Riverrun
into
an
island
.
The
walls
rise
sheer
from
the
water
,
and
from
their
towers
the
defenders
have
a
commanding
view
of
the
opposite
shores
for
many
leagues
around
.
To
cut
off
all
the
approaches
,
a
besieger
must
needs
place
one
camp
north
of
the
Tumblestone
,
one
south
of
the
Red
Fork
,
and
a
third
between
the
rivers
,
west
of
the
moat
.
There
is
no
other
way
,
none
.
"
"
Ser
Kevan
speaks
truly
,
my
lords
,
"
the
courier
said
.
"
We
'd
built
palisades
of
sharpened
stakes
around
the
camps
,
yet
it
was
not
enough
,
not
with
no
warning
and
the
rivers
cutting
us
off
from
each
other
.
They
came
down
on
the
north
camp
first
.
No
one
was
expecting
an
attack
.
Marq
Piper
had
been
raiding
our
supply
trains
,
but
he
had
no
more
than
fifty
men
.
Ser
Jaime
had
gone
out
to
deal
with
them
the
night
before
...
well
,
with
what
we
thought
was
them
.
We
were
told
the
Stark
host
was
east
of
the
Green
Fork
,
marching
south
...
"
"
And
your
outriders
?
"
Ser
Gregor
Clegane
's
face
might
have
been
hewn
from
rock
.
The
fire
in
the
hearth
gave
a
somber
orange
cast
to
his
skin
and
put
deep
shadows
in
the
hollows
of
his
eyes
.
"
They
saw
nothing
?
They
gave
you
no
warning
?
"
The
bloodstained
messenger
shook
his
head
.
"
Our
outriders
had
been
vanishing
.
Marq
Piper
's
work
,
we
thought
.
The
ones
who
did
come
back
had
seen
nothing
.
"
