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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 718/751
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"
Rule
,
"
his
father
said
curtly
Tyrion
hooted
with
laughter
.
"
My
sweet
sister
might
have
a
word
or
two
to
say
about
that
!
"
"
Let
her
say
what
she
likes
.
Her
son
needs
to
be
taken
in
hand
before
he
ruins
us
all
.
I
blame
those
jackanapes
on
the
council
--
our
friend
Petyr
,
the
venerable
Grand
Maester
,
and
that
cockless
wonder
Lord
Varys
.
What
sort
of
counsel
are
they
giving
Joffrey
when
he
lurches
from
one
folly
to
the
next
?
Whose
notion
was
it
to
make
this
Janos
Slynt
a
lord
?
The
man
's
father
was
a
butcher
,
and
they
grant
him
Harrenhal
.
Harrenhal
,
that
was
the
seat
of
kings
!
Not
that
he
will
ever
set
foot
inside
it
,
if
I
have
a
say
.
I
am
told
he
took
a
bloody
spear
for
his
sigil
.
A
bloody
cleaver
would
have
been
my
choice
.
"
His
father
had
not
raised
his
voice
,
yet
Tyrion
could
see
the
anger
in
the
gold
of
his
eyes
.
"
And
dismissing
Selmy
,
where
was
the
sense
in
that
?
Yes
,
the
man
was
old
,
but
the
name
of
Barristan
the
Bold
still
has
meaning
in
the
realm
.
He
lent
honor
to
any
man
he
served
.
Can
anyone
say
the
same
of
the
Hound
?
You
feed
your
dog
bones
under
the
table
,
you
do
not
seat
him
beside
you
on
the
high
bench
.
"
He
pointed
a
finger
at
Tyrion
's
face
.
"
If
Cersei
can
not
curb
the
boy
,
you
must
.
And
if
these
councillors
are
playing
us
false
...
"
Tyrion
knew
.
"
Spikes
,
"
he
sighed
.
"
Heads
.
Walls
.
"
"
I
see
you
have
taken
a
few
lessons
from
me
.
"
"
More
than
you
know
,
Father
,
"
Tyrion
answered
quietly
.
He
finished
his
wine
and
set
the
cup
aside
,
thoughtful
.
A
part
of
him
was
more
pleased
than
he
cared
to
admit
.
Another
part
was
remembering
the
battle
upriver
,
and
wondering
if
he
was
being
sent
to
hold
the
left
again
.
"
Why
me
?
"
he
asked
,
cocking
his
head
to
one
side
.
"
Why
not
my
uncle
?
Why
not
Ser
Addam
or
Ser
Flement
or
Lord
Serrett
?
Why
not
a.
.
.
bigger
man
?
"
Lord
Tywin
rose
abruptly
.
"
You
are
my
son
.
"
That
was
when
he
knew
.
You
have
given
him
up
for
lost
,
he
thought
.
You
bloody
bastard
,
you
think
Jaime
's
good
as
dead
,
so
I
'm
all
you
have
left
.
Tyrion
wanted
to
slap
him
,
to
spit
in
his
face
,
to
draw
his
dagger
and
cut
the
heart
out
of
him
and
see
if
it
was
made
of
old
hard
gold
,
the
way
the
smallfolks
said
.
Yet
he
sat
there
,
silent
and
still
The
shards
of
the
broken
cup
crunched
beneath
his
father
's
heels
as
Lord
Tywin
crossed
the
room
.
"
One
last
thing
,
"
he
said
at
the
door
.
"
You
will
not
take
the
whore
to
court
.
"
